


Exceeding Expectations

by alkjira



Series: What To Expect [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Durins Died At BoFA, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Cracky fluff, Dwarfs Being Awkward, Dwarfs Being Very Awkward, Dwobbits, F/M, Hobbits being awkward too, M/M, Only Happy Endings, Post Mpreg, The Middle-Earth Version Of A Business Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 48,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1862136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Urgent business in the Shire forces Bilbo to leave Thorin and the children in Erebor as he travels back to the west. </p><p>Will the guards that accompany him get a chance to find a Hobbit to court?<br/>Will Thorin make everyone's life miserable while Bilbo is gone?<br/>And why exactly did the Thain ask Bilbo to come in the first place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This looks to be a fairly long story, so let's split it.  
> Another WIP is surely just what I need *looks innocent*
> 
> I think this will have four chapters but please don't believe that I know what I'm talking about.

"Are you with child?"  
  
Just after hearing the question Bilbo was prepared to be upset.  
  
As if someone who was pregnant would not be fit for travel, the nerve! Then he noticed the way Thorin’s hands were clenched into fists tightly enough to whiten his knuckles; clenched in a way that must make his nails dig into his palms. And the Hobbit took a deep breath and informed his husband that no, he was not.  
  
Thorin slumped as if he was one of the dolls on strings that Bofur had made for Della. And after another moment's thought Bilbo realised that had he been with child he might very well have been forced to give birth before being back in Erebor. Ah.

Their journey to Erebor had taken close to half a year, but that was with a lot of delays, stops and other mishaps such as the company being locked up in Mirkwood for almost a month. The return journey should be much quicker, and even though he was going to the Shire and back again it would be fine. If he knew Thorin, and Bilbo would definitely say that he did, he would have so many guards with him that any Troll, Spider or Orc would think twice about trying to eat them. 

Still, fair was fair, perhaps Thorin had a point, or would have had one  _had_  Bilbo been pregnant. Which he wasn't. Almost entirely certainly. 

"It's not that I _want_ to leave you and the children," Bilbo said and took Thorin's hand. "I'll be back as soon as I can. But I have to go. The Thain-"

"I know," Thorin sighed, wrapping his arms snugly around Bilbo, and the Hobbit melted into the embrace. 

“If it was just one thing I could perhaps delay it,” Bilbo said, somewhat muffled as his head was pressed against Thorin’s chest.  
  
He managed to turn his head slightly which improved the situation greatly. “But young Hamfast wrote me as well, and I’m not sure that the Thain would ask me to come home simply because Lobelia keeps trying to steal my silverware, and I do also want to see Primula and Drogo wedded. They’re both my favourite cousins you know.”  
  
“I know,” Thorin said, somewhat morosely.  
  
“I just don’t understand why Fortinbras couldn’t write and tell me what he wanted exactly,” Bilbo muttered. “Quite rude really. Can’t be about the wedding either. He’d not write just because of that.”

Thorin sighed and tightened his arms a little and Bilbo rubbed circles into what he could reach of his husband’s back.  
  
“I’d say I’ll be back before you know it, but I’m beginning to suspect that you’ve already started to miss me.”  
  
“We will all miss you terribly,” Thorin said, his arms tightening a little bite more.  
  
“I wish you could all have come with me, darling,” Bilbo said soothingly. “But the children are not quite old enough that I would want them on the road. Della would perhaps be all right to bring-“  
  
Thorin’s grip tightened ever so slightly again. “-but the others, no. I could not do it with a clean consciousness. Thank the Valar that they'v already started eating solids. And leaving them without both their parents- oomph!“  
  
Thorin’s grip on him had tightened _again_ , and Bilbo patted Thorin on the back. “Darling, I’m beginning to have some issues breathing, would you mind?”  
  
The grip around him loosened, very grudgingly.  
  
-  


"Why are the pups snoring even though they're awake?" Bilbo asked and peered into the basket Kíli was holding; down at the happily squirming pile of fluff balls. The hamsters were all busy eating carrot shavings and seemed very pleased. They were all also making quite loud snoring noises. 

"It's not snoring," Kíli huffed. "They're _purring_. They've just not quite figured it out yet."  
  
“They’ll learn,” Fíli defended. “Give them some time.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Bilbo agreed. “Then my next question would be why they are in a basket.”  
  
“Easier to carry them around like this,” Kíli explained. “We were just moving them from the kitchens down to my chambers.”

“Only Nori has pockets enough for them,” Fíli nodded. “And only Balin, Glóin and Bifur have room enough in their beards.”  
  
“And Fíli doesn’t like them in his hair,” Kíli whispered loudly. “He’s afraid one will get stuck so they’ll have to cut his pretty-“  
  
“Shut your mouth,” Fíli growled.  
  
Kíli shook his head sadly. “It would be the tragedy of our Age.”

“You shutting your mouth?” Fíli snorted. “Hardly.”  
  
“I meant your hair, stupid.”  
  
“Of course I knew that, I was just-“  
  
“Suuure.”  
  
Bilbo sighed and plucked the basket of hamsters from Kíli’s hands. “Settle that amongst yourselves, away from impressionable young ears please. Furry, pointed, or otherwise.”  
  
Both boys turned big soulful eyes at him, but Bilbo would not be moved. “No hamsters while you’re fighting.”  
  
“But Bilbo,” Kíli protested. “We were going to teach them how to hunt.”  
  
“Hunt?”  
  
“Part cat,” Fíli nodded. “They should know how to hunt. But Bill is too lazy to teach them.”

“And _what_ would they be hunting?” Bilbo asked, visions of hamsters trying to prey on the kitchen mice unfolding in his head.  
  
“We thought we’d start with small dust bunnies and work out way up to big dust bunnies.” Kíli nodded, his eyes very big and earnest.  
  
“Come with me and collect Della and the triplets instead,” Bilbo said and handed the basket back to Kíli. “We can stop on the way and leave these to their own parents.”  
  
Both the young Dwarfs’ eyes had lit up at the mention of their cousins.  
  
“Sure,” Fíli agreed. “Oh, and we wanted to ask, do you want us to come with you to the Shire?”  
  
Bilbo thought back to the abuse of his mother’s glory box, the flying plates, the incident with the Trolls… and shook his head. “That’s very kind of you to ask, but I think you should stay here and help Thorin with the children. And with Erebor as well. It will be good practice.”  
  
And much better compared to traumatising my relatives, he added silently. Primula would probably love them, and they would probably be an excellent Lobelia-repellent, but it was probably best that they stayed home. Maybe he should check with Thorin that the guards he would send would-  
  
Oh.  
  
“Oh _drat_ ,” Bilbo said.  
  
Fíli and Kíli looked at him with concern.  
  
“I just realised that at least some of the guards Thorin will send will want to try their chance at courting while we’re in the Shire.”  
  
So far there had not been that many Dwarfs leaving Erebor to try, at least to Bilbo’s best knowledge.  
  
It had been autumn, almost winter when Bilbo had first pointed out to Thorin that any interested Dwarf might want to try their luck, but even in the summer it was a rather long way to go, and there were also plenty of things that still needed to be done in Erebor, and few Dwarfs who would try and shirk those duties (except to make stupid statues).  
  
But now it was very likely that a small army of them would be going to the Shire since they would accompany him. Lots of Dwarfs... Lots of trouble.  
  
“So?” Kíli asked.  
  
“I know what happened to my pantry when you stopped by,” Bilbo said and glared up at them. “I don’t have time to play chaperon for our entire stay in the Shire.”  
  
“Pantries need a chaperon in the Shire?” Fíli asked and pulled at one of his moustache braids.  
  
“No, but I repeatedly told you to stop what you were doing and you didn’t,” Bilbo said and crossed his arms. “How can I know the same thing won’t happen with the courting.”  
  
Bilbo considered both Fíli and Kíli to be rather handsome boys, but a slack-jawed expression was not something that favoured either of them.

“Bilbo, no,” Fíli protested. “They would _never_.”  
  
“Pantry,” Bilbo reminded. “Protests. Not to mention what happened to the plates.”  
  
“They got _clean_ ,” Kíli said with a hurt look in his eyes. In the basket one of the pups squeaked. An answering meow came from around the corner, and Bill tripped into sight, Thorn clinging to his back.  
  
The orange cat marched up to Kíli and merped at him, and the young Dwarf sighed and put the basket down before gently tipping it to allow the pups to walk out onto the floor.  
  
Bill merped happily and nodded at Kíli before wandering back the way he’d come, a trail of 13 pups scurrying after him.  
  
“If Gandalf comes while I’m away make sure to ask him about Bill,” Bilbo murmured  
  
Fíli and Kíli didn’t reply and when Bilbo turned to look at the brothers he was met with two injured expressions.  
  
“You really think we’d do something like that?” Fíli asked and bit his bottom lip.  
  
“We _wouldn’t_ ,” Kíli added.  
  
“I know you wouldn’t,” Bilbo sighed. “But I hardly know all the guards that your uncle will send along do I?”  
  
“They wouldn’t either,” Kíli said stubbornly.  
  
“No one would do that,” Fíli promised. “That’s-“ He made a face of disgust. “They’d rather shag a tree like the Elves do. Courting is one of the most important things you'll do in your life. It's not to be taken lightly.”  
  
Kíli brightened. “Go talk to Balin, he’ll tell you that you’re wrong. We can get Della and the thrins.”  
  
“Unless you think we’re untrustworthy as babysitters too,” Fíli said, the very image of wounded dignity.  
  
“I don’t,” Bilbo sighed. “Very well. Bofur, Bombur and Bifur are watching them. Do not give them any sweets, I’m sure they’ve had plenty.”  
  
-  
  
“Bilbo,” Balin shook his head and a hamster pup fell down into his lap.  
  
Unless Bilbo was mistaken it was Sapphire, and she looked confused for a moment before scurrying back into the cloud of white hair. “Bilbo. _Bilbo_.”  
  
“Balin,” Bilbo said and crossed his arms. “Don’t sound like I’ve accused you of secretly fancying Thranduil.”  
  
“No need for such language,” Balin said and looked disapprovingly at the Hobbit. “And I have to say that I am shocked at what you said before that too.”  
  
“Then please explain to me why I should _not_ be worried.” Bilbo leaned back into his chair. “You _devoured_ my price winning tomatoes even though I told you no. Dwalin was polite enough on his own even if he ended up eating my dinner, but as soon as there were more of you things escalated fairly quickly. And I don't think there will only be one guard along to escort me.”  
  
“Supper and courting are not the same thing,” Balin said and sniffed.  
  
“Tell that to my tomatoes,” Bilbo muttered.  
  
A hamster, Opal this time, peaked out from Balin’s beard and peeped enquiringly.  
  
“No,” Bilbo told him. “There are _no_ tomatoes here.” The little thing huffed before withdrawing into the beard once more.  
  
Balin sighed. “I am sorry for the way we acted-“  
  
“Aha!” Bilbo said triumphantly.  
  
“ _But_ ,” Balin pressed. “The fact remains that there is quite a bit of difference between a pantry and a courtship. Especially when we had been promised a nice supper by Gandalf, and I might mention that we were all under the impression that you were coming with us the next morning, in which case there would have been foolish to leave a pantry full of food to rot. The cheese had already gone bad!”  
  
“The cheese was supposed to be that way,” Bilbo protested. “No, we have no cheese either,” he added when Opal’s little head poked back out. “Why is your beard full of hamsters?” he gritted out from between clenched teeth.  
  
“Their parents left them here,” Balin said and sniffed again.  
  
“Can’t you see why I’m concerned?” Bilbo tried. “I had not invited you, but you came into my home, rearranged my furniture, ate my food, destroyed the plumbing, all this while I was kindly asking you to stop. And even not so kindly after a while.”  
  
Balin had not been involved with the flying plates so Bilbo decided to leave that bit out this time.  
  
“Gandalf-“  
  
“ _I_ still told you no,” Bilbo said and glared over the desk at the stubborn Dwarf. “Not very hard to misunderstand is it?”  
  
“Lad…” Balin scratched at his beard and it squeaked. “As I’ve said I’m sorry. We acted boorishly, I won’t make any excuses, only apologise. And I promise you that when Thorin found out what had happened he was very upset with us all.”  
  
“He was?” Bilbo asked and Balin nodded.  
  
“He was the one who made sure that everyone helped clean before we left.”  
  
“You’re not making this up?” Bilbo asked suspiciously.  
  
“I swear by my beard I’m not,” Balin said solemnly. “Compared to Hobbits I know we can appear a bit… impetuous. Reckless even. But I promise you that no one would confused food and furniture, or plumbing, for what goes on during a courtship. Think back of the beginning of your own courtship with Thorin.”

“I’m not even sure- oh.” Bilbo blinked.  
  
“Indeed,” Balin said somewhat smugly. “I think Thorin started courting you almost a good month before you even noticed it.”  
  
“I was busy being on an adventure,” Bilbo defended. “And it didn’t exactly seem like something that was likely to happen anyway, me and a king?”  
  
“The point is that he was very _careful_. We might be a little reckless when being invited - by a Wizard," Balin added at Bilbo's glare. "To a gathering of friends with lots of delicious food, but there are few things in our lives that we take more care with than our courtships.” Balin gave Bilbo a most serious look. “Thorin only continued to try and court you for so long because you never showed any sign of being _displeased_ with his courtship.”

“So if someone tells them no, you are sure they will respect that?”  
  
Placing his hands on the table Balin got to his feet. “Come on, laddie. I think it’s best that we go and pay a visit to one of the guard barracks. They can tell you themselves.”  
  
-  
  
Bilbo would never understand Dwarves.  
  
Instead of looking at Balin, who now had 13 small, furry heads peeking out from his beard (the pups were curious about what was happening) the two dozen or so guards that stood in front of them all seemed terribly busy looking at _him_ as if he was Mahal returned or something of that magnitude. Bilbo fought against the urge to shuffle his feet and hide behind Balin. Couldn’t there be a healthy balance of no respect and too much respect? And no statues? Was that really too much to ask for?  
  
Perhaps a trip would be just what they needed. Get to know each other a little. Talk about how Erebor was a better place without three-breasted statues and how everyone would get along much better without any sort of worshipping going on.

“Thank you for your time,” Balin said and nodded at the guards. 13 hamsters nodded along with him, and none of the Dwarfs seemed to notice. “As you might have heard, the royal consort-“  
  
“I’m right here and my name is Bilbo,” Bilbo muttered.  
  
“- will shortly be leaving us to visit the Shire. And he will need a suitable escort.”  
  
As one the guards all perked up. A rather pretty dark haired girl at the back began smoothing out her sideburns and Bilbo didn’t know if she thought the guard would be picked based on their sideburns or if she expected Hobbits to start popping up at the mere mention of the Shire.  
  
“The picking of that escort will come later,” Balin continued, and the guards all deflated.  
  
Bilbo was going to have to compliment Dwalin on his training. They were obviously very good at team-work, very harmonised. “But we were wondering if you could help us clear something up.”  
  
The one with the shiniest armour stepped forward and Bilbo supposed that he was a captain or something like that. He would admit to not being entirely well-versed when it came to the organisation of the guards. That was something he gladly left to Thorin and Dwalin as they rather seemed to enjoy it. Dwarfs.  
  
“We would be honoured,” the supposed captain said and bowed his head.  
  
“Excellent,” Balin said and smiled benignly at him. “Now, imagine that you are in the Shire. And you’ve just presented a handsome Hobbit lad or Hobbit lass with a big bouquet of flowers - your people do like flowers?” Balin added to Bilbo. “It’s not just you?”  
  
“It’s not just me,” Bilbo confirmed. Hopefully the bees of the Shire wouldn't mind not having as much flowers as usual to pick from. Dwarfs were very methodical and if their mission was to pick flowers, they would pick flowers like flowers had never been picked before. (Really, there was no need at all to pick them with the roots and everything.)  
  
“Wonderful,” Balin said and now it was Bilbo’s turn to be on the receiving end of a fatherly smile. “So you have given them the flowers. And they thank you kindly for them but inform you that they are not interested in beginning a courtship.”

The pretty dark haired Dwarf sighed sadly and looked down at the ground, as did most of the others.  
  
“What do you do now?” Bilbo questioned. A few of the guards exchanged confused looks with each other, another few looked at Balin for help, and a few looked nervously at Bilbo as if this was test they had forgot to study for. Possibly as if he was about to smite them for it. (Bilbo made a mental note to talk to Nori about what exactly the rumours going around entailed.)  
  
“We wish them a nice day and leave?” one of the Dwarfs offered.  
  
“Offer more flowers as an apology?” another suggested, and Bilbo spared another thought for the poor bees.  
  
“Cry,” one in the back muttered, and a somewhat nervous titter spread through the guards.  
  
“Would you ever try and force your affection on the lad or lass?” Balin asked mildly. The end of the sentence was almost impossible for Bilbo to hear due to the many, many horrified protests, gasps and the clunky metallic sound of one of the guards fainting.  
  
“None of my guards would ever do such a thing,” the captain said, pale faced and almost vibrating with indignation. 

Balin turned to Bilbo and raised an eyebrow, and it could just be Bilbo’s imagination but it looked as if the hamsters all rolled their eyes. Very well then.  
  
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Bilbo said soothingly to the guard. “No one here thinks otherwise." He clapped his hands together once. "But while we're on the subject, let’s talk about pantries.”  
  
A snoring sound crept its way out from Balin’s beard.  
  
-  


“Why have you been scaring the guards?”  
  
“I’ve not,” Bilbo sniffed and held out his arms to accept their squirming oldest daughter from Thorin.  
  
“Dada!” Della complained. “Bath! Boooo.”  
  
“Yes,” Thorin agreed. “We had to have a bath because food should go in the mouth, not anywhere else.”  
  
Now that Bilbo thought about it Thorin did look a little damp around the edges. It was not a bad look. Not even being soaking wet and stuffed into a barrel had been a bad look for Thorin.  
  
“Booo.” Della hid her face against Bilbo’s neck. “Bath, no.” She turned her head and glared at Thorin. “Boo.”  
  
“Where are Fennin, Clove and Burin?” Bilbo asked and shifted Della around until he got a hand free. “Also-,” he took Thorin’s hand and squeezed it. “Hello, darling.”  
  
Thorin’s lips quirked. “Hello.” He leaned in for a kiss and Bilbo stretched up to meet him.  
  
“Me!” Della chirped the instant their lips touched, her bad mood forgotten. “Kiss!”  
  
“The other children are with Fíli and Kíli,” Thorin explained. “We were just waiting for you before going to collect them.”  
  
“Kiss!” Della demanded and patted Bilbo’s cheek. “Dada! Kiss!”  
  
“Finally seeing the downside with three at once?” Bilbo teased as he pecked Della’s cheek. “Not enough arms.”  
  
“There are four between the two of us,” Thorin pointed out.  
  
“Had a cousin who had four once,” Bilbo mused. “Children I mean, at once. Or not a cousin exactly, but close enough. Never knew anyone to have five in one single go. Perhaps there is a reason for that.”  
  
“Four,” Thorin repeated, his eyes slightly glazed.  
  
“Oh no,” Bilbo protested. “Do _not_ go wishing for four at once.”  
  
Della yawned and cuddled a little closer to Bilbo.  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo nodded and gestured at her. “This is one. This is a lovely number to have at once. Four is not.”  
  
Thorin chuckled. “Does that mean that we should not collect our other children from the boys? That would make four.”  
  
“You know that’s not why I meant,” Bilbo said. “Fine, let’s have four. It will be fun to watch the great Thorin Oakenshield faint again at the sight of babes.”  
  
“I didn’t faint,” Thorin objected.  
  
“Sure,” Bilbo agreed. “You just needed to sit down on the floor for a bit. With your head between your knees.”  
  
“Kiss?” Della murmured and scrunched herself up a little more in Bilbo’s arms. The next sound from her was a soft snore.  
  
“Someone’s had a busy day I take it,” Bilbo smiled and kissed the top of his daughters head.  
  
“The thrins were sleeping as well when I went to collect her,” Thorin said and wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders. “Hello, dear one.”  
  
“I thought we did this already?” Bilbo smiled but returned Thorin’s kiss willingly enough. The second one too.  
  
“We had an audience,” Thorin murmured and stole another kiss. “Who is now sleeping. And I’ve not seen you all day, only been told that you’ve been scaring my guards.”  
  
“I didn’t scare any guards,” Bilbo huffed. “I just made sure that they know the basic things anyone who goes to the Shire needs to know. Just in case they ever end up going.”  
  
“Dwalin is in charge of picking your guard,” Thorin sighed. “Have a word with him.”  
  
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Bilbo say. “But I thought you’d want to do that?” That or just send all the guards along, no selection needed.  
  
“Since he’s coming with you he-“  
  
“He’s coming with me?”  
  
Thorin gave Bilbo a somewhat unimpressed look. “Of course. So he might as well pick the guards he will be in charge of.”  
  
“You know I’m very fond of Dwalin, but wouldn’t Balin be the better choice?” Dwalin's approach to diplomacy involved a little too much glaring to be entirely effective. Thorin rather suffered from the same thing.  
  
“I need Balin here. I’m not intending to let our children be without both parents for months, so Dís and Balin will take over some of the daily tasks.”  
  
Guilt wriggled like grubby worms in Bilbo’s belly. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. Or that we could all go. I do want the children to know the Shire as they do Erebor.”

“I know.” Thorin’s arm tightened slightly around Bilbo’s shoulder. “Another time. When they are older. And then we’ll stay for a few years instead of rushing back to Erebor.”  
  
“That would be lovely,” Bilbo sighed. "I could show you all my favourite places. And there could be picnics and naps in the green."  
  
“I know you miss your home,” Thorin said quietly. “And-“  
  
“Hold up,” Bilbo interrupted, not liking the note of self-reproach in Thorin's voice. “My home is right _here_. With you, and the children. And Bill and Thorn and their pups and even with the crazy people with the statues. _This_ is where I belong. Yes, part of me is happy that I’ll see the Shire again. But a _much_ bigger part is _miserable_ that I’ll be leaving you to do it.”

“But you miss it,” Thorin repeated. “There was a time when you thought only of going back there.”  
  
“Darling, there was a time when I thought you only slightly more pleasant company than a melon.” Bilbo shook his head. “But that certainly changed when you stopped being so rude, and my ideas of where I belong certainly changed as well. Otherwise I would not have married you.”  
  
“A melon?”  
  
“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?”  
  
“Are melons typically rude in the Shire?”  
  
“No, but they’re very thick.” Bilbo ducked out from beneath Thorin’s arm and carried Della into the bedroom. Bill and Thorn were curled up together on the bed, and Bill made an inquiring meow as Bilbo put Della down in her bed.  
  
“Would you please watch her for a little while?” Bilbo asked. “We’re just going to get the other children.”  
  
Bill merped and Thorn snuffled softly and Bilbo could have sworn the hamster actually nodded.  
  
“Bilbo…”  
  
“If you think that it’s some sort of chore for me to be here-” Bilbo gently stroked his hand over Della’s curls. “I’ll thank you to get that notion out of your head.”  
  
“I meant no offence,” Thorin said quietly. “But I know what it is like to miss a home. I would not wish that for you.”  
  
“There’s quite a difference between having your home taken away from you and choosing to leave it for another,” Bilbo sighed. He turned around and looked at his husband. His lovely, regal husband who at the moment looked as if he’d been caught scrumping apples from the neighbour’s tree.  
  
“If I lost you or our children I would do anything to get you back. But I don’t really care that Lobelia is taking all my spoons. It’s just that she might have asked first.”  
  
“I worry.” Thorin glanced away. “That you will decide that you miss the Shire too much, and stay there.”  
  
“You don’t have to worry,” Bilbo walked over to where Thorin was standing in the doorway and took his hands twining their fingers together. “The Shire is not home without you and the children there with me. No place on Arda is home without you.”  
  
“I-“ Thorin licked his lips in a rare moment of hesitation. “I just worry.”  
  
“I’m shocked,” Bilbo murmured and rose up on his toes to press a small kiss to the corner of Thorin’s mouth. “Really. Stunned. Speechless. I never knew this about you. Worry you say?”  
  
“Someone has to worry about you,” Thorin rumbled and squeezed Bilbo’s hands before letting go. “You do a poor job of doing it yourself.”  
  
“Is that what your instructions to Dwalin is going to be like?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “To worry about me?”  
  
“Don’t need to.” Thorin shrugged. “He already does.”  
  
“Well none of you need to.” Bilbo took Thorin’s hand again and ignored the disbelieving snort his husband made. “Come now, let’s go collect the missing three pieces of home before they wake up again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing to leave.

It was late one evening, about a week before he would have to leave, when Bilbo had the realisation.  
  
“Thorin, are you awake?”  
  
There was a soft, agreeing-sounding murmur from his left and Bilbo rolled over on his side to face his husband. Thorin’s eyes were closed, and he didn’t look very awake. In fact, he looked to be sleeping. He didn’t really sound like he was sleeping though, considering the enquiring-sounding murmur he made when Bilbo didn’t speak again.  
  
“It can wait until the morning,” Bilbo promised and gently petted Thorin’s bare chest with his hand. “It’s nothing urgent.”  
  
He petted Thorin a few times more, just because he could.  
  
“No, I’m listening.” Thorin opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at Bilbo. With a yawn he stretched a bit -looking a fair bit like the cat did when he’d just woken up - and then covered Bilbo’s hand with his own bigger one. “What is on your mind?”  
  
“I just realised-“ Bilbo hesitated. “You do know I’m not exactly the typical Hobbit?”  
  
Thorin blinked slowly. “Dearest, you’re the _only_ Hobbit I’ve ever known.” Thorin blinked again, even slower, it seemed as if his eyes were not entirely agreeing with the plan to stay awake. “Apart from how our children are half-Hobbit. I’m not sure if that counts. Even if Della do seem to be very fond of flowers.”  
  
His eyes fell closed.  
  
When Bilbo snickered Thorin managed to drag his eyes open once more.  
  
“You mean that our children are-“ Bilbo began.  
  
“Don't say it,” Thorin warned, managing something like a glare.  
  
“ _Dwobbits_.” Bilbo said the word with no small amount of pleasure, and with an innocent smile aimed at Thorin. The smile grew wider when Thorin groaned and rolled to lie on his stomach, burying his face in the pillow.  
  
“If you ask me,” Bilbo mused and petted Thorin’s shoulder before sliding his hand to rest on the middle of Thorin's back. All that skin on display _definitely_ was asking him to pet it. “I think this is one of Bofur's better ideas. Dwobbit. It's rather endearing.”  
  
Bofur had presented them with the word the day before, to Bilbo’s delight and Thorin’s dismay.  
  
“It’s not dignified,” Thorin muttered to the pillow. Then he was forced to lift his head as he yawned again.  
  
“Darling, they’re children. They don’t really have any dignity yet. And there’s nothing wrong with the word Dwobbit. It’s immensely better than thrins.”  
  
Bilbo just couldn't see what was wrong with the word ‘triplets’. It was a perfectly suitable word.

“Was this really what you wanted to talk about?” Thorin sighed and rolled onto his back once more.

His hair was a mess and his blue eyes were dark and half-lidded. He was absolutely lovely.  
  
Bilbo smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to his nose. Then another. It was a rather big nose, it took two kisses to keep it happy.

“I was just going to tell you that most Hobbits are not about to run out their doors without as much as a handkerchief.”  
  
“Yes, that would explain why I’ve not exactly met an abundance of them,” Thorin said drily and put his hand on the back of Bilbo’s neck, gently tugging at a curl. "With or without tiny pieces of cloth on their person."  
  
“My point,” Bilbo said and poked Thorin in the arm. “Is that there will be Hobbits who will not want to live in Erebor.”  
  
Thorin looked confused.  
  
Bilbo was going to be nice and excuse him since he’d almost been asleep not too long ago.  
  
“That means,” the Hobbit explained. “That some Dwarfs might want to stay in the Shire. You know, if they meet someone? Especially if there’s hope of children. Because I’m assuming they don't want to live apart from their children?”  
  
The confused look had been exchanged for a look of horror.  
  
“I thought so,” Bilbo said and snuggled in next to Thorin who reflexively wrapped his arm around him even though he was still looking more than a little horrified.  
  
“And for the record,” Bilbo continued. “I’m not saying that any of the people who leave now will just run off and start digging a smial in the nearest hill. Especially if Dwalin is coming along to keep an eye on them. But long term...”  
  
When Thorin abruptly sat up Bilbo; whose head had rested on Thorin's chest, was forced to sit up with him or flop to the mattress like a lump.  
  
“We will need to make sure that there are safe routes between Erebor and the Shire,” Thorin said and nodded slowly. His voice had been loud enough that Bilbo sent a glance to the part of the room where their children were sleeping, but it seemed that none of them had woken up.  
  
“And between Ered Luin and the Shire,” Thorin added. “I’m sure our kin there will also wish to visit once the news spreads.”  
  
Bilbo took a moment to quietly apologise to all Hobbits. But Dwarfs really weren’t so bad once you got used to them. Really. He'd not be in bed with one if that was the case.  
  
When it seemed as if Thorin was about to leap out of said bed Bilbo halted him with a hand on his arm, sliding it down to twine their fingers together.  
  
“Darling, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve not even left yet. Let's wait and see if there will actually be any matches before you go rushing to fix anything.”  
  
“It’s better to be prepared,” Thorin said and squeezed Bilbo’s hand. “And if nothing else the road will be safe when it's time for us to travel with the children.”  
  
“It can still wait until the morning,” Bilbo said reasonably. Thorin was always muttering about how none of the children would go anywhere until they were at least 50, but Bilbo rather thought that was a big load of drivel. Della was already very keen on exploring, and he had no reason to think her siblings would be different.  
  
“Let's not wake anyone and ramble about safe roads in the middle of the night,” the Hobbit concluded and pushed on Thorin’s chest.

Thorin sighed, but allowed Bilbo guide him back beneath the covers again. They curled up, and Bilbo had just felt Thorin’s breath begin to even out again when another thought occurred to him.  
  
“What?” Thorin murmured in response to Bilbo’s snort of laughter.  
  
“You realise that you're going to have to deal with both Thranduil and Master Elrond to make this work? To get safe passage through Mirkwood and then again on the other side of the Misty Mountains?”  
  
Thorin’s breath escaped in a huge sigh. “I know.”  
  
“You're a good husband and father,” Bilbo murmured and turned his head so he could kiss Thorin’s shoulder. “And a good king.”  
  
“I can feel you smiling,” Thorin said darkly. Bilbo’s smile grew and he rubbed his cheek against Thorin’s skin.  
  
“Only because I love you.”  
  
Thorin sighed again and his arm tightened around Bilbo. “Love you too, dearest. Can we sleep now?”  
  
“Yes, we can.”  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
On the other side of the room Clove made a small noise.  
  
"Or maybe not."  
  
-  
  
The following evening Thorin presented Bilbo with the plans to not only to ensure safe passage from east to west and back again, but also plans for a trade route between Erebor, the Shire and Ered Luin.  
  
Seeing as it was ill-advised to try and send food from the Shire to Erebor - almost any food would have gone bad before it reached its destination - Thorin had sketched up a trade route that would go from the Shire, to Ered Luin, to Erebor, and then back again to the Shire. And on the way it would even deign to cross paths with the Elves and Men.  
  
The key parts of the plans was that the Hobbits would send food to Ered Luin, as well as certain herbs (which would also go to Erebor) and Ered Luin would send copper, iron and silver to Erebor, getting gold and gems in return, and then ‘something’ would be sent to the Shire.  
  
The Iron Mountains and Dáin was mentioned here and there as well, but not really in much detail. Not that surprising since there was already existing trade agreements drawn up between Thorin and Dáin, but Bilbo rather thought that Thorin’s cousin would want to try and get some sort of trade agreement with the Shire as well. He’d likely accuse Thorin of trying to steal all the Hobbits for himself. And only half be joking. But that would be a problem for another day.  
  
Thorin’s plan wasn’t entirely clear on what this ‘something’ that would be sent to the Shire would be, but he’d scribbled ‘whatever the Hobbits wish’ as a suggestion and circled it. Twice. Seemed reasonable. And it would probably make the Thain more inclined to forgive a few… cultural issues.

It was many, many pages of plans Thorin had handed Bilbo, detailing such things like where the outposts would be, which paths were safe, and how annoying Elves were (yes, there was a page like that even if it was officially just titled ‘Elves’) and when Bilbo finally put them down on the table and looked at his husband Thorin was looking back at him expectantly.  
  
If his husband had been born with a tail it would have been wagging. For most other people this would have meant that he was grinning wildly or vibrating with energy, but for Thorin it meant a small, rather smug, smile and a bright glint in his eyes.  
  
“I guess it's good to be prepared?” Bilbo offered. “And it seems like a good plan.”  
  
The spark in Thorin’s eyes grew bigger.  
  
“We might as well begin improving the roads as well,” he mused. “And something needs to be done with the passage across the Misty Mountains. Even without Goblins that could prove troublesome. A tunnel would be much preferable.”  
  
“You’re going to tunnel through the Misty Mountains?” Bilbo repeated, not sure if he’d heard correctly.  
  
“Building something over it would not be much use would it?” Thorin smiled at Bilbo to show that he was just teasing. “We’d have to choose a spot where we’d not be likely to stumble into any Goblin towns, but other than that it should be fine. It’s nothing that’s not been done before. Do not forget that much of Erebor was solid rock before we arrived.”  
  
“Yes I’ve always wondered about that,” Bilbo said and a small furrow appeared in his brow. “What you’ve done is basically to hollow out the mountain, correct?”  
  
Thorin nodded.  
  
“So where did all the bits of rock go? If you’ve hollowed it out where did the insides go?””  
  
“Some of it was used to build Dale,” Thorin explained. “The rest, well, if you arrive from the North I’ll have to admit that Erebor looks somewhat… less impressive.”  
  
“You went and dumped all the leftover rock behind the mountain?”  
  
“We’re _storing_ it there,” Thorin defended.  
  
Bilbo snorted. “Well, if you’re looking to make better roads I guess you might find some use for it.”  
  
“Yes, I did think of that,” Thorin agreed. “And we will most likely be able to strike a deal with the Men to help us.”  
  
“Not the Elves?”  
  
“Elves carrying stone and shovelling dirt and getting mortar on their silk clothes?”  
  
“They’d not wear silk if they’re about to work,” Bilbo sighed. “But let’s not get into an argument.”  
  
“You do like my idea then?” Thorin asked. “I’m sure we have something your kin would like to trade for. Coat buttons in gold? Handkerchiefs embroidered with silver thread?”  
  
“Try offering almost any Hobbit proper gardening tools,” Bilbo advised. “That will do it. Or copper pots for cooking. And cutlery. Silver spoons seems to be more popular than ever judging by young Hamfast’s letter… Or maybe that’s just Lobelia…”  
  
“That reminds me,” Thorin said. “I’ve a gift for you.”  
  
“Spoons?” Bilbo quirked an eyebrow.  
  
“Not as such,” Thorin said as he walked over to his desk and picked up a small wooden box from it. “I made you something to remember us by.”  
  
“As if I could ever forget,” Bilbo shook his head. “Silly Dwarf.”  
  
“Humour the silly Dwarf, please,” Thorin said and offered the box to Bilbo.  
  
The wood was sanded smooth and Bilbo dragged the tips of his fingers over the side before opening it by lifting the small silver latch. He gasped when he saw what lay inside it.  
  
“It’s beautiful,” Bilbo softly as he carefully picked up the cloak pin.  
  
Gold and lapis lazuli had been carefully arranged to form five small flowers, forget-me-nots to be precise. There were buds as well, and a thin stalk holding everything together; also made from gold.  
  
Bilbo quietly counted the buds. Seven. Was that perhaps how many children Thorin still hoped to have or was it just any odd number? Four plus seven, that would mean eleven in total. No, Thorin would probably not want eleven, it sounded very much like Elven after all.  
  
“It’s convenient when the flowers actually are name for their meaning,” Thorin remarked as he cupped his hand to Bilbo’s face. “Makes things a lot easier.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to Bilbo’s brow. “Do you like it?”

“Yes, thank you:” Bilbo smiled up at him. “It’s lovely.” The first flowers he'd ever gotten from Thorin had been buttercups, and considering that Thorin hadn't even known that they would one day have children together there was really no way of turning that into a meaningful message. They had still been very lovely.  
  
As he stretched up to kiss his husband little did Bilbo know that the cloak pin would just be the first of many gifts he would receive in the next few days. Only, the other ones wouldn’t be from his husband.  
  


-  
  
  
“This is new,” Bilbo remarked the next day when he opened the door leading into their chambers.  
  
“Flowels!” Della said excitedly. And indeed. Every surface in the receiving room seemed to be occupied by flowers. Flowers in vases, flowers in pots, flower crowns, flower wreaths, flower garlands… None of which had been there that morning.  
  
Not entering Bilbo turned to the side and looked at the guard standing outside the room. “Care to explain why people have decided to reap the nearby fields of all the flowers?”  
  
The guard bowed his head respectfully. “They have been left to remind you that you’ll find flowers here as well, and ask for your return.”  
  
“I’m somewhat sceptical that I'll find that any flowers are still left when I return,” Bilbo muttered. “Wait a little, sweetheart,” he added to Della who did not appreciate having to wait before being allowed to go into the room. She would just have to live with it, because before checking to make sure nothing was poisonous Bilbo was not about to let her in there on her own. “Don’t tell me that people think I’m not coming back?”  
  
The guard looked uncomfortable.  
  
“Right.” Bilbo sighed. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but my husband; Thorin - you might have heard of him since he happens to be king here. He and my children happen to live in Erebor."  
  
The guard looked more uncomfortable and bit down on his lip.  
  
“Out with it,” Bilbo prompted.  
  
“Flowels,” Della demanded and reached her hands towards the open door. “Now.”  
  
“Just a moment, Della.” Bilbo looked up at the guard. “Well?”  
  
“If you would decide to stay it is believed that the King and your children would join you.” The guard looked earnestly at him. “We don’t want to lose either of you.”  
  
Maybe Balin could do a contract for him to sign publically, promising to come back.  
  
“ _Flowels_!” 

-

  
“I hate your husband,” Dwalin informed Bilbo and shut the door behind him with a little too much force.  
  
“You don't,” Bilbo scolded and handed Dwalin a happily burbling Clove. "Here, take her. The other two were sleeping, emphasis on the were considering the way you slammed the door."  
  
Dwalin looked somewhat guilty, but most of the emotion on his face was still tending towards grumpy. In his massive hands Clove hardly seemed any bigger than she'd been at birth, and Bilbo felt a sharp prick at his heart as he realised that when he came back to Erebor again they'd all be so much bigger.  
  
"Your father," Dwalin told Clove as she chattered nonsense to his beard. "Will drive me to an early grave."  
  
"Surely it's not that bad," Bilbo called from the bedroom. Both Fennin and Burin were indeed awake, Fennin lying quietly on her back and studying the ceiling, Burin lying next to her, busy drooling around his own fist.  
  
"It is," Dwalin said mulishly. "He keeps trying to increase the number of guards that'll come with us and the guards know it. I'm drowning in idiots who want nothing more than to look adoringly at you and dream of a Hobbit of their own. Despite how I’ve already picked the ones who'll go. More would just make us much too slow moving. You'd think your idiot of a husband would realise that."  
  
"How come he's _my_   idiot of a husband and not _your_ friend and king when you're upset with him?" Bilbo said and walked out into the sitting room with Burin on one arm and Fennin on the other. Fennin cooed to herself and Burin still seemed determined to devour his own hand. Since he didn't have any teeth yet Bilbo wasn't too worried about it.  
  
"Because I refuse to acknowledge that that lump is my king," Dwalin said darkly. “And I’m about to strangle him and I don’t strangle friends, or kings.”  
  
"Just tell him to stop," Bilbo suggested. "I do recommend it. It almost always works if you say it sternly enough."  
  
Dwalin muttered something.   
  
"What was that?"  
  
"He keeps giving me mournful looks when I begin to tell him," Dwalin said between gritted teeth. "Big eyes and-"  
  
Burin and Fennin had now noticed Dwalin and had both started to squirm in Bilbo's arms.   
  
When they noticed their sibling resting snugly and smugly, as smug as someone barely older than half a year could be, in Dwalin's arms Burin started to cry while Fennin seemed to wilt. Even her hair, which looked ever so much like dandelion fluff, seemed to droop.  
  
“Like that,” Dwalin said and pointed an accusing finger at Fennin. “He looks like that.”  
  
Fennin blinked up at him, and her lower lip wobbled slightly. Burin cried higher.  
  
“Give them here,” Dwalin demanded and sighed.  
  
They ended up on the rug in front of the fireplace in the bedroom, all three children cooing happily as they wriggled about on his lap. Bilbo winced when Clove reached up to tug at Dwalin's beard, but Dwalin didn’t even seem to notice it.  
  
“And to top it off, we’ve never had so many people volunteering to join the guards.”  
  
“But that’s good, surely?”  
  
Dwalin shook his head, delighting Clove as his beard became a moving target. “It's horrible. I don't want guards who'll be distracted by their own moony fantasies. If they want to stare at you or other Hobbits they can do so at their own time.”  
  
“Get Dís to tell him then,” Bilbo suggested. He snickered. “Wait, give Fennin here.”  
  
His smallest girl made a small noise of protest as Dwalin handed her over to Bilbo.  
  
“Practice on telling her no,” Bilbo said and turned her to face Dwalin again. "Then Thorin will be easy."  
  
The little girl looked at the bald Dwarf with round, sad eyes and tiny sigh escaped her. She curled into Bilbo’s arms and a second, even tinier sigh escaped her.  
  
Bilbo snorted when Dwalin reached over and snagged Fennin back up again. “I see why we have a problem. So, ask Dís.”  
  
Dwalin muttered beneath his breath and gently stroked two fingers over Fennin's curls.  
  
-  
  
Even after making Balin draft up a contract and after signing it before an audience Bilbo still opened his front door to find a sea of flowers.  
  
He turned to look at the guard, and it just so happened that it was the same one as before.  
  
“It’s now for your _safe_ return,” the guard explained. “When the shrines ran out of room people started to come here to leave them as an offering.”  
  
The shrines were on the top of the list of things Bilbo would not tell anyone in the Shire about. Hopefully the Dwarfs’ rather ridiculous urge to worship him would come to a quick end when they were introduced to more Hobbits. Otherwise several species of flowers would probably go extinct.  
  
But at least there were no-  
  
“Oh, and someone left a statue. It’s in the sitting room.”  
  
Great.  
  
At least leaving for a while would have _some_ upsides.  
  
-  
  
  
The last days before Bilbo’s departure Thorin handed over the kinging – “That’s not a word.” “Neither is ‘thrins’.” – to Dís and they had as much family time as they could possible squeeze into the hours of the day.  
  
Regardless, when the final day started to slide into evening Bilbo’s heart ached constantly.  
  
“I don’t want to go.”  
  
“If you want to tell me that you should, I’m sorry,” Thorin said. “But it's not in me to convince you to leave if you don't want to.”  
  
“But I do want to see Prim and Drogo again, watch them get married. And if _anyone_ should have my spoons it's the Gamgees and not Lobelia.”  
  
“Then go.”  
  
Burin had always had less hair than his siblings and even now that the hair on his head was coming along nicely it still seemed stubborn; intent on growing upwards in spikes and not down in curls.  
  
Bilbo brushed his cheek against it and sighed. His little boy had grown out of not wanting to be more than an inch away, which was good. But also bad, because if Burin had _only_ been able to go to sleep in Bilbo’s arms then the decision to go would have been taken from Bilbo’s hands entirely.  
  
“I guess it's too late to offer my cousins to get married here,” Bilbo muttered. “And Fortinbras can come along as well. As Gandalf would say, it would be good for him.”  
  
“I'll send a raven to them,” Thorin offered.  
  
“You're humouring me.”  
  
“I love you.”  
  
“That's not a no.”  
  
“I love you very much,” Thorin promised and Bilbo snorted. In his arms Burin let out a small snore.  
  
On the floor Fennin and Clove were practising crawling, and Della was having a conversation with Bill and Thorn. The pups (yes, even if they were indeed far from pups by now, they would always be pups to Bilbo) were trying to help with the crawling, lining up in front of Fennin and Clove and showing how it was supposed to be done, their tiny tails wiggling back and forth.  
  
The girls appeared to be more interested in snagging one of the hamsters though, but it amounted to the same thing as it gave them motivation to keep moving forward.  
  
“Bill, Thorn,” Bilbo said and looked at the cat and hamster. “You do realise that if they catch one of your children they’ll be gummed and probably banged against the floor. I don’t think that is a good idea.”  
  
In his less kind moments Bilbo rather thought that Dwarfs were quite like toddlers. A standard response to something new was to check to see if it tasted good, or to try and smash it.  
  
Thorn seemed to agree with his opinion; regarding his pups, not Bilbo’s thought on Dwarfs (but he probably did agree with that too) because he was quick to peep at the thirteen hamsters and they soon gathered in a somewhat sulky pile around Della.  
  
Zircon especially seemed perturbed, but he had been sullen ever since Bilbo had caught him trying to hide in the luggage not only once but twice. The Hobbit didn’t know what Bill had said to the little hamster, but the meowing had sounded like a _most_ stern talk.  
  
“I’m going to miss so much,” Bilbo said and looked at his children; Della now giggling where she lay on the floor, more or less buried beneath a living cover of hamsters, Fennin and Clove realising that the hamsters had moved and wriggling to try and turn around, Burin snoozing quietly in his arms. He turned to Thorin. “So much will happen and I’m not going to be here for it.”  
  
“I'll write everything down,” Thorin promised. “Every smile. Every tear. And when you come back it'll be if you were here when you read it.”  
  
Bilbo blinked a couple of times and sniffed. “Thank you.”  
  
  
-  
  
As they put the children to bed Bilbo's heart felt like it might burst. He would not get to do this again for months and months.  
  
Burin had just continued to sleep, which was fortunate for Bill as Burin seemed to have mistaken him for a stuffed animal. If Bill wasn’t in the crib when Burin was about to go to sleep he whined until the cat joined him.  
  
Bill had he act of untangling himself from a sleeping child down to an art form by now, bless his furry little head.  
  
Clove tended to favour a stuffed elk Bofur had made for her and usually gummed the antlers as she drifted off to sleep. The amount of drool that toy had seen had to be enough to fill a small lake.  
  
Fennin usually wanted something that made noise and her favourite was a soft ball that had a little bell in it which chimed when you shook it. The downside of that was that the pups loved it as well, and more than one time Bilbo had caught them sneaking into the crib to try and steal it once his baby girl had fallen asleep. He’d gotten Bofur to make them their own ball, but they still wanted Fennin’s. Hamsters. Like Dwarfs they were always going to be a little (well…) bit beyond understanding.  
  
Stroking the soft hair on each of the three heads Bilbo sniffed and then walked to Della’s little bed, where Thorin had just tucked her in.  
  
“Sad?” Della asked, her eyes big. “Dada?”  
  
“A little,” Bilbo admitted and knelt down next to the bed.  
  
A strong arm curled around his waist and Bilbo leaned against Thorin’s side. They had tried to explain to Della that he was going to go away for a while, but he didn’t know how much of it she had understood. She knew was leaving was, because she knew that Dáin lived somewhere else and left to go back there when he’d been for a visit. But not a day in her life had gone by that Bilbo and Thorin hadn’t both been there.  
  
“Boo,” Della decided after some contemplation. “Kiss?” she offered and puckered her lips.  
  
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Bilbo said and offered his cheek, then kissing Della’s in return. She nodded firmly, as if that settled things and Bilbo couldn’t help but to smile. Della nodded again.  
  
“Elves,” she said and cuddled down into the bedding. Thorin sighed.  
  
“If you allowed Thranduil and the others to come here and meet her she might realise that Elves aren’t just something you say when you feel like it,” Bilbo murmured.  
  
“Hmm,” Thorin said, sounding as committed as Ori usually did when he promised to eat more greens.  
  
Bilbo kissed Della's other cheek and breathed in the sweet, soft smell of her skin. Then there was time for bedtime stories, and Bilbo only stopped when Della's eyes fell shut. Only then Bilbo allowed himself to slump and melt into Thorin’s arms.  
  
“I’ll be back before winter,” Bilbo promised both himself and Thorin. “Before the triplets’ birthday. And I’m never going anywhere without all of you again.”  
  
“You will be missed,” Thorin murmured and held him a little more firmly. They held each other for a long moment before Thorin suggested that maybe Bilbo would like to bring more guards after all. Just to be on the safe side.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My week has been somewhat sucky, if yours has too, I hope this will cheer you up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan like a donkey, so I think this story will actually be five chapters.

Bilbo ran his fingers over the flowers on his cloak pin and tried not to look back. It worked about as well as the last time he’d told himself not to look back.  
  
Erebor was an imposing height in the distance. They’d left Dale behind over an hour ago and now it was impossible for even the most sharp-eyed of eagles to look at the mountain and see anything more than a dull gleam from the front gates as the sun found them.

But that didn’t stop Bilbo from turning his head hoping to catch a glimpse of Thorin and their children.  
  
“If you start this journey by falling off your pony-” Dwalin muttered. “Thorin will have my beard as a plaything for your bloody cat. Stop twisting about so much.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said prickly. “I can’t imagine what I could be looking for.” Except for the five pieces of his heart that he was leaving.  
  
“Forget your handkerchief again?” Dwalin suggested.  
  
Bilbo turned his nose up and didn’t bother gracing that remark with a reply. When Dwalin looked away the Hobbit carefully patted his coat pockets to make sure that the handkerchiefs were indeed still there.  
  
He wasn’t the only one who travelled prepared, though perhaps he was not prepared for the same things as the guards who accompanied him and Dwalin.  
  
Bilbo had never seen such well-groomed guards before. Not a hair was out of place and everything that could gleam, gleamed. It would be quite interesting to see if they managed to keep that up all the way to the Shire.  
  
Considering Bilbo’s personal experiences of trudging through mud and having to throw oneself down into all sorts of unpleasant things to get away from certain death he doubted it.  
  
Though perhaps there would be less of the certain death occasions as they could use the main roads this time, and would be on horseback for most of it.  
  
It had not occurred to Bilbo at the time, but during the trip from the Shire to Erebor there had been an awful lack of proper roads. He’d just assumed that once they’d left the Shire people were strange enough not to want bother with road constructions, but the truth of the matter was that Thorin hadn’t wanted their quest to be known, and as such they’d avoided all main roads. And all farms, inns, road houses, and other such things that would have the journey more pleasant.  
  
This time there would hopefully be less Trolls and more inns, which meant that the guards might have a fighting chance after all. With their appearance that was. Bilbo didn’t doubt that Dwalin had picked the best out of the bunch when it came to fighting abilities.  
  
Their company made twelve in total, and apart from Dwalin Bilbo only knew one of the other Dwarfs who would accompany him to the Shire.  
  
Trinn had been the guard Thorin had ordered to stalk him (“Keep you safe, dear one, nothing else”) while Thorin had still been too badly injured to move around much.  
  
It had taken a while for Bilbo to catch on as he’d spent most of his time in the tent with his husband, but he’d eventually put two and two together once he’d realised that he always saw the same Dwarf around every time he did step out for some air.  
  
Trinn been very earnest and upfront about her orders once Bilbo had confronted her, and _very_ proud to be allowed to protect the King’s husband, so he hadn’t had the heart to tell her to stop.  
  
All that stopped Bilbo from shaking some sense into Thorin at the time was how that would probably make a few stitches pop. And also the miserable look in blue eyes when Thorin had explained how horrible it was to be shut up in a tent, unable to protect Bilbo from any dangers that still lurked.  
  
By which Thorin mostly meant Elves. Who, to clarify things, didn’t lurk.  
  
A group of them had simply volunteered to stay after the battle and help to heal those in need of their help. Thorin had of course refused to consider himself part of that group, which was why Bilbo had snuck Tauriel inside while Thorin was sleeping and asked her to please do her best.  
  
To this day Thorin still thought he’d gotten better simply due to pig-headed stubbornness, and Bilbo had no intentions of cluing him in any time soon. It would be completely like Thorin to take offence for being healed, and they were all better off not talking about it.  
  
Tauriel was a very nice lass and had promised not to say anything either. Bilbo thought that she might still feel a little guilty about the way she and the others had behaved during their first meeting in Mirkwood, and healing Thorin without him knowing it was a very good way to make up for it, and at the same time not having to actually apologise.  
  
Elves…  
  
But back to the subject of Trinn; since Bilbo had felt obliged to agree to let her stalk him they’d gotten to know each other a bit, and while they’d not exactly had tea once a week since then it was still a comfort to have another familiar face around.  
  
By the end of the trip they would all be familiar, perhaps even friends, even if that looked like it would take some work.  
  
-  
  
“I’ve told you to call me Bilbo,” Bilbo sighed after yet another occasion, yet another _day_ , of being called Your Highness. “I’m not even sure you should be Highnessing me in the first place because it might I slipped your notice, but despite having wedded your King, I’m not Queen.”  
  
“Yes, Highness,” Dwalin said and grinned at him when Bilbo groaned.  
  
“Not you too.” Bilbo looked across the campfire and caught one of the guards; the youngest of them, hiding a smile behind his hand. He reminded Bilbo of Ori, but Valar only knew why as they looked nothing like each other. Liv was broad where Ori was more slender, and his hair and beard were even darker than Thorin’s.  
  
“Right.” Bilbo straightened up. “Everyone together now: Bilbo. Repeat after me, _Bilbo_.”  
  
Dwalin shrugged when the guards turned to look at him. “Either you do as he says or you don’t.”  
  
“Bilbo,” the ten guards chorused obediently and Bilbo beamed at them.  
  
-  
  
Even so it took a little more for them to begin to relax around him.  
  
-  
  
“Please don’t follow me,” Bilbo asked when he caught the largest of the Dwarfs, larger than even Dwalin, about to follow him away from the campsite.  
  
“Your- Bilbo,” Ginn said and inclined his head. “It is my duty to-“  
  
“I’m just going behind the bush there to pass water,” Bilbo said and watched in amusement as the big, burly Dwarf blushed bright red. “How about I scream if there’s an Orc hiding there?” Bilbo offered and Ginn nodded.  
  
“Yes, Your Highness.”  
  
“Splendid.” Bilbo decided to let the matter of titles go for now and offered the guard a smile. The shade of red actually managed to deepen. Oh dear.  
  
-  
  
When Dwalin began to laugh out of the blue Bilbo looked ahead to try and see what was going on. Riding beside him was Lev, Liv’s older brother even if you’d not know it by looking at him.  
  
Where Liv was dark as coal, Lev was smouldering fire and his neatly braided red beard reached almost down to his waist. Liv's beard just barely touched his collar bones. But the brothers were much alike in temper, always smiling or humming a little tune.  
  
But at the moment Lev looked distinctively put out.

“Bilbo!” Dwalin called. “Tell us about how we first met.”  
  
He and Lev slowed their ponies so the rest of the company could catch up.

“There was a small matter of a quest to reclaim Erebor,” Bilbo said drily. “I understand how it could have slipped your mind.”  
  
“What happened when I knocked on your door,” Dwalin demanded. “Lev here won’t take my word for it.”  
  
“I never said _that_ ,” Lev protested. “Of course I didn’t. Master Dwalin, I-“  
  
“He knocked on my door, introduced himself as politely as anything, and then proceeded to invite himself inside to eat my dinner,” Bilbo said and threw a mock-glare at his friend.

“Truly?” Trinn asked.  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo said. “And for the record, this is not how you should behave in the Shire. Not even if a Wizard tells you to.”  
  
Drumming the message in surely wouldn't hurt.

-

“May I offer you my bedroll, Your High- Bilbo?” Fraff said and Bilbo rolled so he could face the Dwarf where he sat on watch.  
  
“I’m sorry?” Bilbo asked, somewhat confused. He already had a bedroll.  
  
“You’re not sleeping, and-“ Fraff’s eyes widened. “And I would like to add that of course I wouldn’t be on the bedroll with you. I merely meant that if the ground is too hard you could have mine. As I am not using it. As I'm on guard. Obviously.”  
  
Something like a snort could be heart from Dwalin’s general direction, but it might have been a snore.  
  
“The ground is fine,” Bilbo said. “I- It’s just strange sleeping alone.”  
  
Now _that_ was definitely a snort.  
  
“It’s not an _invitation_ ,” Bilbo said pointedly to what he could see of Dwalin in the low light from the fire. It looked as if his shoulders were shaking slightly. Since it seemed unlikely that he was crying, the confounded Dwarf was most likely laughing at him. “I’ve shared a bed with Thorin for years and years, and lately it’s not like we’re usually alone in it either.”  
  
Dwalin gave up on pretending to sleep and snickered out loud.  
  
“Because of _Della_ ,” Bilbo sighed. “We’re not alone in bed because she thinks it is unfair that the triplets get to share a bed and Thorin and I get to share a bed but she has to sleep on her own. So she comes to join us. Do get your mind out of the gutter.”  
  
“I didn’t say anything,” Dwalin grinned, his teeth and the white of his eyes the only spots of brightness on his face in the dim light coming from the half-banked fire. “But if you feel like cuddling you know where to find me.”  
  
Fraff made a shocked little sound and Bilbo turned back to him.  
  
“Do ignore Dwalin unless he’s giving you orders,” Bilbo said and rolled so his back was towards his friend. “I’ve found that greatly simplifies your life.”  
  
“I’m hurt,” Dwalin protested, but Bilbo could still hear him grinning.  
  
“I wonder what a certain mutual acquaintance of ours would have to say about you offering to cuddle with me,” Bilbo mused.  
  
“If you’re talking about Thorin-“  
  
“I’m not,” Bilbo said and rolled to face Dwalin once more.  
  
If nothing else all the rolling would even out the ground a little, because despite what he had said it was a vast difference between his bed and a bedroll. But it wasn’t bad enough that he’d need to steal someone else’s bedroll.  
  
“I’m talking about someone more inclined to hide in wardrobes.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dwalin said mulishly, the line of his shoulders suddenly a stiff ridge.  
  
“He wasn’t at all happy about you going you know,” Bilbo said and pillowed his head on his arm. “I think he thinks that you’ll end up married and have children on this little trip of ours. Since you’re both morons enough not to just sit down and have a-“  
  
“Bilbo,” Dwalin warned, his voice a low growl.  
  
“I don’t even know what I was worried about really,” Bilbo said to no one in particular. “The Dwarven style of courting is obviously slow enough that anyone not interested will have years to say so.” A frowned cross his face. “Does that mean that my marriage to Thorin was somewhat rushed?”  
  
“Yes,” ten voices said, Dwalin merely grunted.  
  
“Is anyone actually sleeping?” Bilbo queried, and a string of denials came from around their little camp.  
  
“But there were special circumstances, of course,” Trinn said sincerely. “Concerning your courtship and wedding I mean. Times of war calls for desperate measures.”  
  
“Yes, quite,” Bilbo muttered.  
  
The oldest of the guards, Jem, sighed wistfully.  
  
“It is like in the stories I grew up with, you swearing eternal love to each other before a battle against a terrible foe. No one would say that it was improper, Your Hi- Bilbo.”

Well, swearing _had_ been involved…  
  
Bilbo bit his lip and decided not to crush any romantic notions with the truth of what had actually happened.  
  
No need to mention that while they’d waited for the ravens to return with news about Smaug, Thorin had decided that it would be a good opportunity for some entirely irrational behaviour.  
  
Out of all things to be annoyed at (the lack of proper food and beds, the persistent smell of Dragon dung, the dust that covered everything and made Bilbo sneeze) Thorin had decided that he disliked the magic ring Bilbo had found in the Goblin caves and it had led to a shouting match that had ended with Thorin roaring that if Bilbo should wear any ring it should be _his_ ring, and not some trinket likely made by an Elf.  
  
A little taken aback Bilbo had asked politely (snagged one of Thorin’s braids and shouted right back in his stupid face) if that was a backward way of proposing?  
  
After that things became a little… heated, and a few hours later they’d hand in hand gone back to join the others; Thorin with a couple of suspicious looking bruises on his neck, a very smug grin, and a high flush on his cheeks, and Bilbo’s clothes with a few buttons mysteriously missing. Not to mention enough dust in his hair to keep him sneezing for hours.  
  
Balin had rolled his eyes at them when Thorin, now the very image of calm, had asked him to bear witness to their marriage.  
  
 _“As long as I don’t have to witness anything else,”_ he’d said while wearing a very longsuffering expression. “ _You two are determined to do everything in leaps and bounds aren’t you?”_  
  
At the time Bilbo hadn’t quite understood what he’d meant, but in hindsight… Perhaps getting married after seven months of knowing each other and only three months of courting (including the month when Bilbo hadn’t really been aware of what Thorin was doing) and then having four children only a few years later…  
  
Maybe that wasn’t _entirely_ like other people did it. Or at least not like Dwarfs handled such things.  
  
But really, Hobbits were great deal more sensible, because why wait once you both knew in which direction you were going?  
  
Bilbo much preferred this way compared to what Dwalin and Nori were doing.

They’d been eyeing each other up already on the road to Erebor, and still seemed to be quite firmly stuck in that stage of things.  
  
Except for such intervals like the one they’d just left behind when Nori got into a sulk and made himself even more invisible than he usually was. Ever since Thorin had decided that Dwalin would go to the Shire Bilbo had hardly seen him, and there had been a lot more space than usual in their cupboards and closets.  
  
When Dwalin sulked, like the time he’d gotten it into his head that Nori and Bofur were courting, a lot more practice dummies than usual needed replacing, but otherwise you’d not notice that anything was amiss.  
  
Dwarfs.  
  
Mildly curious if the ‘terrible foe’ that Jem had mentioned would be Smaug, the Orcs or the Elves, Bilbo decided that it could wait for another night. Or day even.  
  
Bidding them all a good night, Bilbo cuddled down the best as he could in his bedroll and told himself to dream of blue eyes, sticky hands, toothless grins and strong arms.  
  
-

At the edge of Mirkwood they were met by a group of Elves as agreed by Thranduil, and their ponies were collected while they themselves were paired up with an Elf each; to ride behind them on horseback.  
  
This was of course very popular amongst the Dwarfs in the same way that huge bleeding wounds were popular. Perhaps even less so since wounds might result in terrible scars that were seen as badges of honour (Dwarfs…) but to basically be forced to hug an Elf ‘round the middle for days to come… While that indeed seemed to result in some scarring on the Dwarven psyche apparently those scars were not considered honourable.  
  
Still, the trip through Mirkwood was over and done with remarkably fast when no one got lost, fell into rivers or was forced to fight spiders. Or got kidnapped and locked inside a dungeon by Elves, but it felt rather petty to think about that since they were now allies; water under the bridge and whatnot.  
  
Bilbo almost wished that there would have been a detour planned to go down south and visit Beorn, but he did not wish to spend any more time on the road than absolutely necessary.  
  
Perhaps their great friend would agree to visit Erebor sometime, they could work something out so that he actually fit inside. Dwarfs had the tendency to build big anyway, so it was mostly a question about where he’d be able to sleep.  
  
But… Bilbo frowned and his hands tightened a little in his Elven companion’s tunic. Before the desolation of Smaug there had been diplomatic visits from the Elves (nowadays Thorin kept coming up with excuses as to why they should just stay in Dale) so surely there had to be rooms and beds built to their measures somewhere in the mountain? They still might end up being too small for Beorn, but at least it would be easier to adjust than a Dwarven sized chamber.  
  
He’d need to talk to Thorin and-  
  
Bilbo sighed as he realised he wouldn’t be speaking to his husband for months to come. Going off on adventures were not nearly as fun when you actually left something other than a garden and an armchair behind to miss.  
  
-  
  
The path they used to cross the Misty Mountains was not the same as they’d used before, thankfully, but it wasn’t really that much easier to traverse even though the road was wide enough for them to stay on the horses for most part, and for the first time Bilbo was honestly thankful that he’d not brought any children with him. Just the thought of any of them anywhere near the edges of the road they travelled; edges leading to drops high enough that you couldn’t even see the ground, made Bilbo feel sick.  
  
Thorin’s idea about a tunnel seemed less and less preposterous the more he thought about it, who was he to stop Dwarfs from smashing stone if that was what they felt like doing. At least this would be a much better use of their time than all those blasted statues.  
  
-  
  
The second night on the mountain range Bilbo resolutely took his bedroll and put it down next to Dwalin’s.  
  
“I do not fancy turning into a Hobbit-shaped block of ice,” Bilbo said in response to the raised eyebrow. “And I know from our last quest that you all run a lot warmer than I do.” In the summers cuddling with Thorin got almost uncomfortably warm, but Bilbo would put up with worse than a little sweat to be able to go to sleep with Thorin’s heartbeat beneath his ear.  
  
“If you’re asking me for a cuddle,” Dwalin said straight-faced. “Just say so.”  
  
There was a small snicker from Liv’s direction.  
  
“Dwalin,” Bilbo said, polite as could be. “May I please have a cuddle?”  
  
“You may,” Dwalin replied and opened his arms. “But keep your hands to yourself. I’m not as easy as Thorin is. What-“ he added when someone made a choked noise. “Did you think their children stuffed themselves into-“  
  
“That’s enough,” Bilbo said and accidentally on purpose sat down on Dwalin’s stomach. He was hoping it would wind him, but alas. Covering his mouth with a hand yielded better results. “Do try to behave, at least a little.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Master Hobbit,” one of the Elves called. “We’re well aware where little ones come from.”  
  
“See,” Bilbo said to Dwalin. “Would that you’d all been that reasonable when I told you I was expecting Della.”  
  
“’s not our fault you didn’t tell us you were a magical fertilising-“  
  
That was as far as Dwalin got before Bilbo’s hand was back to cover his mouth.  
  
“I’ll go bed down with one of the Elves unless you keep quiet,” Bilbo threatened. “And you can be the one explaining that to Thorin later. No offence intended,” he added and looked over at their escorts.  
  
“You’re welcome to join us, Master Hobbit,” one of the Elves smiled as he gestured on the ground between himself and his friend. “We’ll keep you warm.”  
  
“That won’t be necessary,” Fraff said stiffly. “His Highness is more than welcome to share our bedrolls.”  
  
Liv snickered again.  
  
“I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” Fraff hissed.  
  
Bilbo hid a laugh as Dwalin pulled him down to lie beside him.  
  
“You’re not half as clever as you think,” Dwalin grumbled as he allowed Bilbo to arrange him as he pleased.  
  
“Agree to disagree,” Bilbo said and tried to warm his toes by pressing them to Dwalin’s trouser clad legs.  
  
-

Rivendell was just as beautiful as it had been the last time, and despite having new Dwarven companions (all but one) they were just as displeased about being there as Thorin's Company had been.  
  
“There will be no bathing in the fountains,” Bilbo hissed to Dwalin during the dinner. “And any furniture that gets broken will be repaired before we leave tomorrow.”  
  
Dwalin didn’t reply and instead poked morosely at his plateful of vegetables.  
  
“At least Thranduil’s lot eat meat,” he muttered surly.  
  
“Then follow their behaviour and stop looking as if you’re being poisoned,” Bilbo told him.  
  
The Elves that had brought them from Mirkwood to Rivendell seemed to get along fabulously with their hosts while the majority of the Dwarfs looked uncomfortable and only ate when they caught Bilbo glancing at them.  
  
Liv and Lev were the only ones who actually seemed to find some enjoyment in the salad with walnuts they’d been served. Perhaps he could arrange for them to spend some time with Bifur and work out how to get Dwarfs to eat more vegetables. Della and the triplets seemed to like them well enough, and unless it was merely do to his own part in their creation the Dwarven distaste against vegetables were probably more of a cultural thing rather than a taste bud one.  
  
-  
  
Lord Elrond was not currently home, but Bilbo took the time to seek out his steward, Lindir, and apologise profusely for any inconvenience during their last stay.  
  
Taking a page from Thorin’s book Dwalin had ordered Trinn to not let Bilbo out of her sight, which meant that during his conversation with Lindir, Bilbo had a Dwarven shadow standing just behind his shoulder.  
  
Poor Lindir seemed rather discomfited by this as he kept glancing at her. When a sudden flush bloomed on the Elf’s pale cheeks Bilbo turned around, prepared to scold Trinn for making faces, but instead there was an answering flush on her cheeks, and the shy smile on her lips seemed quite genuine.  
  
“He’s rather handsome, isn’t he,” Trinn mused as they walked through the hallways back to the chambers they’d been given. “For an Elf I mean.” She paused. “He is a he, isn’t he?”  
  
“Would it matter if he wasn’t?” Bilbo asked, genuinely curious as it seemed that most Dwarfs weren’t overly concerned with such things.  
  
“Well,” Trinn said absently and pulled on one of her braids. “It’s a little tricky picturing someone naked if you don’t know what bits they’ve got.”  
  
A little shocked Bilbo couldn’t stop the laugh bubbling up. Trinn stiffened and two red splotches appeared on her cheeks.  
  
“Please don’t tell Master Dwalin? It’s just, I was just looking.”

“Not to worry, my dear,” Bilbo said and patted her on the arm. “There’s nothing wrong with looking.”

Perhaps there would be one out of the bunch that wouldn’t be too interested in courting once they were in the Shire… If so perhaps he could talk Thorin into stationing a few Dwarfs in Rivendell once that trade route of his got going. For the sake of diplomacy, of course.  
  
-

  
Bilbo looked up at the Troll. Up and up.  
  
“Were they really this big?” he asked Dwalin and nudged his toes against a stoned toe the size of his arm . “I don’t remember them being this big.”  
  
“They were that big,” Dwalin grunted. “But they smell a lot better now. Going after them on your own… stupidest thing you’ve ever done. And that includes laughing at the bloody Dragon.”

“I couldn’t just let them eat Myrtle and Minty could I now?” Bilbo defended.  
  
“Yes, you could,” Dwalin said and crossed his arms. “We could have gotten by without two ponies. Not without you. Thorin almost wrung the lads' necks once he’d figured out what had happened. Not that he was terribly pleased with you either, you nitwit. And we ended up losing the ponies anyway when the Orcs came.”  
  
“Are you really telling me off for something that happened ages ago?” Bilbo asked and folded his arms over his chest.  
  
“Yes,” Dwalin said and glared at him. “Don’t do it again.”  
  
“I don’t plan to,” Bilbo said and glared back.  
  
“Good!”  
  
“Good!”  
  
Bilbo turned his back to Dwalin, which coincidentally made him face the rest of their party. Twelve Elves and ten Dwarfs looked at him with expressions ranging from amused to distraught.  
  
Snagging Dwalin’s sleeve Bilbo tugged at it and when he also faced the others Bilbo patted the Dwarf's arm.  
  
“We’re not really upset,” he promised. “We just had a discussion.” Out of the corner of his mouth he hissed: “Let’s not fight in front of the children.”  
  
Dwalin stared down at him in disbelief. “Children?”  
  
Bilbo blinked. “Oh, well, you know what I mean.”       
  
In the background someone snickered.  
  
-  
  
It was raining, and they were unfortunately right in the middle of nowhere with no inns in sight. Everything was wet and by the time they’d found a place to make camp inside a cave everything was even more wet.  
  
“I don’t even care if Goblins live here,” Bilbo muttered. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m dry again.”  
  
His mood did not improve when everyone was suddenly very careful not to look at him once he started peeling of his clothes to dry by the fire. You’d have thought that by now they’d stopped being concerned with such trifles as naked skin.  
  
Unless…  
  
“Please tell me that Thorin didn’t make a royal decree that none of the guards should see me naked,” Bilbo mumbled to Dwalin.  
  
“He didn’t,” Dwalin grunted as he wrung the excess water from his beard.  
  
“Are you lying?”  
  
“Maybe. But if you order them to look at you naked you’re just going to make things that more uncomfortable. Just fasten a blanket around your waist.”  
  
Bilbo heaved a sighed but he padded over to his pack to follow Dwalin’s suggestion. “Did Thorin practice to get this way or did it come naturally?”  
  
“Don’t know,” Dwalin shrugged. “’s not like he married someone before you.”  
  
“Aren’t I lucky,” Bilbo murmured and pretended to himself that he was more sarcastic than he really was. Stupid, stubborn Dwarf of a husband. How dearly Bilbo missed him. Missed them all. But this far the journey had gone even faster than their estimations, and soon they would d arrive in the Shire and soon he’d be ready to go back home again.  
  
It was rather strange that thought; that he no longer considered Bag End to be his home as he’d done for the first fifty years of his life, but he would gladly give the smial and all the silver spoons in it to Lobelia if she could magic up his family by his side.  
  
Not that he would suggest such a thing because then she likely would make plans to find a Wizard to pester until he agreed to teach her magic. And that would be terribly unfair to the Wizard.  
  
-  
  
When they arrived in Bree the Elves bid them farewell and instead Dwalin sent Fraff out to buy ponies to ride for the last leg of the journey.  
  
They spent the night at the Prancing Pony and it was a delight to finally get to sleep in a properly sized bed again, even if he didn’t sleep all that long.  
  
At dawn Bilbo woke with legs itching to move and after some nudging and poking and promises of breakfast he got the Dwarfs up and moving as well.  
  
“Unless the ponies we bought can fly we’re still going to need a few days before we’re there,” Dwalin mumbled between stuffing his face with eggs and sausage.  
  
“I know,” Bilbo replied and tried to refrain from bouncing on his chair. “But can’t you feel it? We’re almost _there_.”  
  
Dwalin gave him a narrowed-eyed look. “You do know that you’d break Thorin’s heart if you decided not to come back with us.”  
  
The dining hall was suddenly very quiet.  
  
“Dwalin,” Bilbo said gently and thumbed the blue gemstones on his cloak pin that he wore despite not actually wearing a cloak. “You can be such a nincompoop, but I’m very fond of you even so.”  
  
The big Dwarf grunted, and with that the matter was settled.  
  
-  
  
As the sun began to set that day it was over green rolling hills and meadows filled with flowers. (At least for now.)  
  
They had arrived to the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just a reminder, in this story, the Ring is just a ring. Magical, but not a weapon of mass destruction.


	4. Interlude - Meanwhile in Erebor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I said five chapters I meant five chapters and an interlude. Obviously.

_Dearest Bilbo,_

_I have now lost count of how many letters I’ve written you, but as they’re all safe on top of your writing desk it does not matter, they’ll still be there waiting for you when you arrive home. But hopefully they’ll keep for a little longer than that, because reading is secondary to having you in my arms once more, to breathing in the sweet smell of your curls and feeling your heart beat beneath my fingers._

_Once you are within my reach I do not plan to let you go for quite some time, and of our children I would think at least Della harbours similar plans._  
  
 _Ori drew her a picture of you, and she carries it around with her everywhere she goes. I thought she’d bite Fennin’s head off when she accidentally tore the corner, but do not worry, we still have four children, each with a head attached._  
  
 _However this is not what I planned to tell you in this letter. Yes, I know I said I would write to you about the children, and now I tell you that I will not? Indeed. But what has happened lately, while not directly concerning our four priceless gemstones, is something you will want to know about when you return home to us._  
  
 _Remember how I asked you, back when you first decided that Della should have a rodent, if it was likely to take over the mountain and nest in the treasure chambers? And you laughed and told me that it wasn’t possible?_  
  
 _That, beloved, shows what you know about rodents._  
  
 _Fíli and Kíli claims that the little_ [here the word ‘pests’ have been crossed over] _ones only did it to help, but I sincerely doubt it._  
  
 _Nori is furious._  
  
 _Balin… well I swear his hair is even whiter than before._  
  
 _Dís… is mostly amused, but also somewhat concerned._  
  
 _When you’re reading this, this would be the point you look up from the letter and look at me exasperatedly and ask if I’m ever getting to the point. And now you roll your eyes. And now you put down the letter and come and join me in our bed? I'm asking you nicely._  
  
 _Unless I am not actually in our bed, in which case feel free to find me and take me to it._

_Or you could continue reading. But the letter will still be here after I’ve made your toes curl in pleasure and reddened your mouth with kisses._  
  
 _I miss your toes, and your sweet lips. And your adorable little nose. And the spot on the inside of your knee that-_

_…_

  
_Perhaps I should be the one returning to this letter after a break._  
  
 _But no, I shall press on and, as you would say, ‘get to the bloody point, darling’._  
  
 _What your little pets have done (Bill and Thorn not included) is that they’ve managed to get their little sticky paws on the Arkenstone, and they have not only managed to get it outside the throne room, but they’ve also hidden it somewhere in the city, most likely inside the treasure chambers._  
  
 _How do we know this? Because a guard that is currently helping the Elves with whatever Thranduil needs doing (and I hope to Mahal it involves flowers or cleaning up after that moronic overgrown goat of his) saw them take it and head for the treasure chambers, but he did not stop them. He thought they had been sent for it._  
  
 _He now knows better._  
  
 _As you know, beloved, the one who holds the Arkenstone in principle wields the power of the seven Dwarven armies, and while high-pitched peeping does not suffice as orders Balin is still not comfortable with allowing animals to be the rulers of Erebor, not even in theory._  
  
 _Nori is mostly just furious that, as he says, guards continue to prove themselves to be more stupid than their own backsides, and Dís is concerned that someone else might find the King’s Jewel before the 13_ [again, the word ‘pests’ have been blotted out] _mischief makers see it fit to return it. And she is also worried that no one will ever find it._  
  
 _So far threats, bribery and the children giving them sad looks have not worked. They refuse to reveal where they have hidden it._  
  
 _As I mentioned before, Fíli and Kíli thinks that they only did it to give everyone a break from having to do actual work (court has been out of session ever since the jewel was noticed to be missing from the throne) but I think that’s giving them too much credit. The pups I mean._

_Bill and Thorn have, I assume as I do not speak cat nor hamster, tried their best to convince their spawn to return the Arkenstone to where they found it, but it has so far yielded no result._  
  
 _Our people do not seem overly concerned about what is going on. I am not sure how to interpret this._  
  
 _But I have faith that by the time you will get home everything will once again have been sorted out. Nori keeps the pups under close guard, shadowing their every move._  
  
 _Which admittedly will not work so well if they decide to split up, but I trust that he will think of something. I also trust, and I use that word because of the irony inherent in it, that he will read this letter as he can’t stand there being information that he does not know about._  
  
 _Which is perhaps also part of the reason for his bad temper as I have (as I’m sure you’ve noticed in the last few letters) taken to including little tips for him in my words to you._  
  
 _Like how the one piece of furniture he really should show up in without prior notice is the bed in Dwalin’s chambers._ _He would be doing us all a favour really as we would no longer be subjected to their pining_ _for each other._  
  
[Here there is a note scribbled in the margins, one made by another hand then the one responsible for the majority of the letter]  
  
 **Like you are really one to talk Master I-Think-Insulting-The-Hobbit-I-Am-In-Love-With-Is-A-Good-Plan-As-It-Will-Make-Him-Pay-Attention-To-Me Oakenshield. If it hadn't been for Bofur and myself helping you out you would still be stuck making moony eyes at him. Not that this means that you are right about your accusations, it just means that you should shut your royal mouth or I'll let the hamsters keep the bloody Arkenstone.**  
  
 _On that note I will retire to our bed, beloved, where our four children are already sleeping, and doubtlessly an assortment of furry critters as well. I do not mind as the bed is much too big for one. But I do look forward to the day when you, dear one, is back to share it with me. And not only because you do not wake me up in the middle of the night by kicking me in the neck and chewing on my hair._  
  
 _I will write you again tomorrow. But for now, I hope that you stay safe, and that you will sleep well._  
  
 _All my love,_

_Your Husband_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there will be Hobbits in the next bit.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're following this or any other stories of mine, sorry it's taking ages, but brain does not appear to be wired correctly at the moment. I blame summer. Hopefully the cooler autumn air will sort this out and chaptered work will be easier.  
> Smutty short stories will be back on September 1st, just FYI.
> 
> Also:
> 
> WHEN I SAID I MEANT FIVE CHAPTERS AND AN INTERLUDE I OBVIOUSLY MEANT SIX CHAPTERS AND AN INTERLUDE. *hides* (we've not even gotten to the wedding yet, omgosh.....)

"Oh no!" Bilbo breathed as he looked at the deep purple blossoms of the rhododendron bushes in front of him.   
  
"What," Dwalin asked, hand going to his axe. Fraff appeared to favour attack over caution as he had his axe already in hand, aimed at the closest bush as if expecting them to be Orcs in particularly cunning disguises. Or very small, very vicious, Ents.  
  
"I didn't ask anyone to keep an eye on my garden," Bilbo said and twisted his hands into the reins of his pony. “If no one will water my roses they’re all going to die before I get back. And much everything else in the garden as well.”  
  
Dwalin sighed and let his hand fall down to pat the neck of his pony. “You might want to avoid sounding like that unless it’s actually a matter of life or death for something other than greenery.”  
  
Bilbo shot him an annoyed look. “I’ve worked _hard_ to get that garden to blossom.”  
  
“Only because you wouldn’t allow anyone else to help.”  
  
“Because when I _did_ everyone kept leaving the weeds and plucking the daisies away as fast as they could sprout!”  
  
“The bush is not going to attack us,” Trinn said to Fraff as Bilbo and Dwalin continued to bicker. The younger Dwarf glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“Are you entirely sure?” he asked.  
  
“-our fault everything bloody looks the same!”  
  
“Quite,” Trinn replied.  
  
“Oh don’t even. I know you can tell the difference between a ruby and a garnet at first glance.”  
  
Fraff let the axe slip back into the sheath he carried on his back. “On your head be it.”  
  
“-not the same thing!”  
  
“Neither are daisies and dandelions!”  
  
“The daisies are the blue ones, right?” Liv asked Lev. Lev shook his head.  
  
“I think they’re the purple ones. The blue are the bell-something.”  
  
-  
  
The plan was to go straight to Hobbiton and Bag End even though they were technically going to pass Buckland (and thusly Drogo and Primula) on the way there. The wedding was still a week and a half away, but Bilbo wasn’t sure how close his spoons were to Lobelia’s clutches.  
  
As for Fortinbras... he could either show up for the wedding and Bilbo would have a talk with him then, or he’d just have to wait his turn. Whatever he wanted would either keep until after the wedding, or Fortinbras would need to seek him out before then.  
  
Bilbo had _no_ desire to go down to Tuckborough unless strictly necessary. Not because he disliked it, or the Great Smials, but rather because the idea of Dwalin and the other Dwarfs in the tunnels and hallways of the old mansion spelled Trouble (with a capital T for Tooks).  
  
Bilbo might be able to go in there with eleven Dwarfs but he wasn’t at all sure he’d come back out with that same number.  
  
Fraff would be just the sort to accidentally break a vase or one of the hundreds of other breakable things cluttering up the halls and rooms, and he’d just as accidentally promise himself into eternal servitude to make up for it. And Bilbo’s relatives wouldn’t think twice about taking him up on it.  
  
No, Brandy hall would be much preferable. Not only were the halls roomier and less filled with breakable things, but the Hobbits living there was also more likely to turn down any Dwarfs wanting to trade themselves for forgiveness.  
  
Yes, on hindsight it was possible that Bilbo should have been just as worried about what Hobbits might do to Dwarfs instead of looking at it like a one way problem. That much became more and more obvious.  
  
-  
  
“Dwalin,” Bilbo murmured to his friend. “Might you tell our companions to relax a little. I know there are plenty of bushes around, but not a single one of them is going to attack.”  
  
If the line of Jem’s spine got any stiffer and straighter the fellow would likely snap in two if he accidentally fell off his pony, which he might, because the poor thing did not look to be enjoying her rider and might be planning a rebellion.  
  
Dwalin rolled his eyes. “It’s not the bushes. It’s the company.”  
  
Bilbo looked down at himself and then back at Dwalin. “What?”  
  
“You and Thorin really deserve each other,” Dwalin muttered. “We’d just rode past the first village of your kinfolk when everyone started to look like their underwear had been starched.”

“But, Trinn too?”  
  
“Why wouldn’t she be interested now that there’s Hobbits around?” Dwalin asked. “Her and Edda was just as primped and preened as the others when we started out.”  
  
Because of Lindir, Bilbo did not say. Instead he bit his tongue. They’d just met once, so it was rather inane of him to think Trinn would be ready to settle down. With an Elf no less. Not that a Hobbit was really less strange, for a Dwarf, but yes, indeed.

“So they’re being silly. That’s what you’re saying,” Bilbo said, his voice just loud enough to carry to Dwalin.  
  
“I wouldn’t have thought that would come as a surprise after the journey so far.” Dwalin snorted. “They want to look _impressive_. Just in case a future spouse would happen to be looking.”  
  
“Is that why your chest always puffs out whenever Nori’s around?” Bilbo murmured. “Yes, yes, besides the point,” he agreed when Dwalin glared darkly at him.  
  
“It’s why Thorin ignored three cracked ribs for two days just so you wouldn’t think him soft.”  
  
“Fine, Thorin can be ridiculous, but he wasn't nearly _this_ ridiculous,” Bilbo hissed. He still hated the thought of Thorin being in pain because of him. Not that Bilbo had been responsible for cracking the ribs or behind the request that Thorin act like an idiot, but still. But Thorin hadn’t looked like he’d accidentally swallowed his sword, even with cracked ribs.  
  
“Cracked ribs aren't ridiculous enough?” Dwalin asked, but then he sighed. “They just want to make a good impression. It’s different when you are actually looking for someone to court instead of-“ He sighed again, before turning to Bilbo and forcing a smirk. “But trust me, Thorin’s bleated enough about what sort of first impression he made on you. How poorly you must have though of him.”  
  
Bilbo looked disbelieving at Dwalin.  
  
“Oh fine, he didn't actually bleat," Dwalin admitted. "But I knew he was thinking it.”  
  
“If Thorin had just been a little more polite he’d made an _excellent_ first impression,” Bilbo sniffed. Or a lot more polite, but that was water under the bridge. “Regardless, what our companions are doing now is _not_ helpful for a good first impression. They look as if they’re going to war.”  
  
Dwalin shrugged. “Some people find that impressive.”  
  
“Hobbits don’t!”  
  
“You didn’t seem to mind that Thorin was wearing armour and a grumpy expression.”  
  
“He wasn’t wearing either when he first brought me flowers,” Bilbo pointed out. “And that was when I actually realised he was trying to court me.”  
  
“Just leave them alone,” Dwalin said. “First time a pretty lad or lass will smile at them there’s a chance they’ll forget what they’re doing anyway. Much to my disgust. Eh,” he continued when Bilbo looked at him in concern. “They’ll not get themselves or anyone else into trouble and that’s the important bit.”

Bilbo believed him. They were all very nice people, even though he got along with some; like Trinn and Liv, better than the others.

But _because_ they were all so nice Bilbo had developed a secondary worry. What if they all managed to get their hearts broken? Not to say that Hobbits didn’t take things such as love and courting seriously, but it was quite possible that they didn’t take it quite as seriously as Dwarfs seemed to do. Not to mention that their respective people went about the business of courting in rather dissimilar ways.

Balin had told Bilbo that if Thorin hadn’t been so bloody stubborn (the exact expression used by Balin had actually been ‘persevering’) he might have gotten disheartened by the lack of response from Bilbo early in their courting (during the time when Bilbo hadn’t even clued in that any courting was going on), and thus would not have continued, and thaat seemed to sum up the Dwarven courting process.  
  
If at first you don’t succeed, _don’t_ double-check if your intended even knows what’s going on, just bite the inside of your cheek and smile through the pain, and oh, yes, prepare to spend the rest of your life alone.  
  
 _Dwarfs_ …  
  
Dwalin and Nori certainly seemed to have taken that sort of approach.  
  
Something must have happened to cause the two of them to think that the other wasn’t interested, and whatever it was it was a good enough of a wallop that none of them wanted to try again. The question was if locking them up in a room together would be good enough, or something else was needed. Like the lack of clothes, or the addition of copious amounts of alcohol beforehand. Only that could backfire… But before Bilbo was back in Erebor he was determined to have something figured out. Hopefully they’d be back close to his birthday and he couldn’t think of a better gift for Dwalin and Nori then each other.  
  
-  
  
Dinner, which should have been delightful as it was eaten inside a nice and cosy little inn instead of outside in the rain, was not.  
  
Maybe, just _maybe,_ Bilbo had talked a little too much about the importance of not doing anything that could seem rude or offensive, because aside from Dwalin, none of the others seemed to dare even breathe unless Bilbo had done so first. And to carry the metaphor, if they noticed he was breathing they made sure to hyperventilate, just in case it was required of them.  
  
“Would anyone like seconds?” the plump and cheerful innkeeper asked, and after Bilbo’s:  
  
“Yes, please!” and Dwalin’s nod and (after being kicked by Bilbo) his “please”, ten other Dwarven voiced chorused:

“Yes, please. Thank you very much.”  
  
Literally, _chorused_. It was as if they’d been practising, or all turned into Fíli and Kíli.  
  
Their hostess looked a little taken aback, but smiled amiably enough and told them she’d bring out more to drink as well.  
  
As one voice, ten Dwarfs thanked her. Very politely. That wasn’t the problem. No, indeed not.  
  
Bilbo resisted the urge to hide his face in the palm of his hands. But he couldn’t hide from the feeling that he only had himself to blame.

-

 _Right_. Bilbo blew out a smoke ring and watched it float away. So it could be worse.  
  
Polite Dwarfs were better than Dwarfs dancing on the tables, no doubt about that. But it was rather worrisome how they all appeared to have turned into a collective instead of the sweet people Bilbo had come to know over the course of the journey. They’d even blushed as one, all except for Dwalin (but including Trinn,) when a Brownlock lad had wandered by and smiled in the general direction of their table.

If this was how it would be once his babies began to get their first crushes then Bilbo didn’t know how he was expected to survive it. Not to mention how Thorin would react. Would he glare at anyone who dared to smile at his children? Or would he dared at anyone _not_ smiling in case the children would be upset by the lack of smile…

Knowing Thorin he’d probably try and do both, even though it made no sense.  
  
“That’s a heavy frown,” a voice said to Bilbo’s right and to his quiet relief it did not belong to one of his Dwarfs.  
  
Bilbo smiled apologetically at the lass who had walked out of the inn, much in the same errand as himself if the pipe was anything to go by, but she probably hadn’t been forced to order eleven Dwarfs to remain at the table – pointing out that while there were bushes outside, none of them had seemed very dangerous.  
  
Not that Dwalin let himself be ordered around, but he had been suitably distracted by a third serving and thus amiable enough to the thought of letting Bilbo smoke on his own without being mauled by savage greenery.  
  
“I promise you it’s not as dire as it looks,” Bilbo said and took a deep puff of the pipe before exhaling a somewhat crooked ring. Blast, he was dreadfully out of practice. Going outside for a quick smoke happened less often when there were two armfuls of children that would want to come with.  
  
“Uh huh,” the lass said and snorted. “But I’m being rude. I’m Aster, and I’ll confess to being terribly curious how you ended up with a dozen Dwarfs.” She smiled and winked at him. “Yes, if I started out being rude I might as well follow through by admitting to be curious.”  
  
“You’re being very polite about the rudeness,” Bilbo promised and returned her smile. “And they’re only eleven. Might not seem like much of a difference, but believe me, it’s noticeable.” Indeed. There was such a difference between eleven and thirteen. Or was that just the absence of Fíli and Kíli ‘we lost the ponies’ of the line of Durin? “And I’m Bilbo by the way. Bilbo Baggins.”  
  
“Of Bag End?”  
  
A sinking feeling settled in Bilbo’s stomach amongst the very delicious food he’d been served (nothing wrong with Dwarven dishes, but to get them to serve more vegetables was a constant work in progress and it was lovely to get them without needing to ask).  
  
“Yes?” Bilbo said cautiously.  
  
“Would you happen to know someone named Lobelia?”  
  
“What has she done now?” Bilbo asked, the sinking feeling having turned into a lump of lead in his stomach.  
  
Aster chuckled. “I’ve a sister who is good friends with her. Haven’t heard anything about Dwarfs regarding you, but you’re supposed to be dead and thus, no longer the master of Bag End.”  
  
“Oh for…” Bilbo bit down on his pipe. “I would think that Lobelia has lost her ability to read, otherwise she would be very well-informed regarding how very much I am not dead.”  
  
Aster’s eyes flicked up and down and she smiled. “Indeed, you look very alive to me.”

“And with all buttons I had when I left,” Bilbo nodded, chuckling lightly at the lass’ confusion. “Never mind, it’s a bit of a long story.”  
  
“As I said,” Aster shrugged one shoulder and walked up to the bench Bilbo was sitting on and joined him. “I am very curious how you-“  
  
“Our dessert is ready,” Dwalin said, suddenly hovering next to them like a grumpy cloud.  
  
He sounded and looked as disapproving as Bilbo figured it was possible to sound and look at the prospect of dessert. Had someone managed to drop the pies they’d been promised? There had been talk about raspberry, and that was Dwalin’s favourite. If it was no longer an option Bilbo supposed that would sour his mood.  
  
“Mustn’t miss dessert,” Aster said and nodded. “Perhaps we could talk more later?”  
  
“I would like that,” Bilbo said and nodded at her as he knocked his pipe against the side of the bench, making sure nothing was left smouldering on the ground.  
  
“Bilbo,” Dwalin growled.  
  
“I’m coming,” Bilbo protested.  
  
Dwalin really must be upset about the pies.  
  
-

“She was fawning all over you,” Dwalin muttered as the front door fell shut behind him.  
  
Bilbo stopped and gaped up at Dwalin. “What? She was _not_.”  
  
“She was.”  
  
“She wasn’t even touching me.”  
  
If possible the frown on Dwalin’s face deepened. “She was sitting very close.”  
  
“You’re standing even _closer_.”  
  
“Not fawning over you, am I?”  
  
“Neither was she!”  
  
“She was.”  
  
“She wasn’t!” Bilbo took a deep breath. ”If you don’t stop this right now you’re not getting any dessert.” Because Bilbo now had the feeling the pies hadn’t been dropped after all.  
  
Dwalin’s eyes opened wide in shock before they narrowed. “I _will_ have dessert. You will not deny me dessert just because you have decided to be stubborn and make it harder to look after you.”

“Look after-“ Bilbo sputtered. “If anyone is looking after anyone here it’s the other way around. And believe me, it’s not easy taking care of stubborn Dwarfs. Even if you’re married to one.” Bilbo’s eyes narrowed in turn. “Maybe you should try it. See how you like it. I volunteer Nori.”  
  
“Don’t think you will manage to distract-“  
  
“I think I will manage to find my way to dessert.” Bilbo huffed. “And if you’re not there I’ll not save any for you.” However he’d not gotten more than a step before Dwalin’s hand snagged the sleeve of his shirt.

Dwalin gritted his teeth. “All I ask is for you to consider what Thorin would think of this.”  
  
Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “Are you telling me you’d _report_ this to him? Is that what you’re here for?”  
  
“He asked me to look out for you. And she _was_ fawning.”  
  
Bilbo crossed his arms over his chest. “She was being friendly,” he hissed. “There was no touching, no _nothing_ , and nothing best be what comes out of your mouth or I’ll swear on my children there’ll be no pie for you.”  
  
Dwalin’s mouth clicked shut, but the mulish expression did not leave his face.  
  
 _Dwarfs_!  
  
-  
  
That evening Bilbo was washing up in his room when there was a sudden ruckus outside in the hallway.  
  
All he could make out was that Dwalin was out there, and that he sounded upset, and Bilbo sighed. He’d best not be mean to any of the others. If they wanted to sneak around and giggle like tweens in the late hours it was their business. He had full faith in them that they wouldn’t go into anyone’s room unless they’d been invited.

Opening the door, Bilbo had not expected to find the narrow hall completely filled with his Dwarven companions, and he’d definitely not expected to catch a glimpse of the lass from before, Aster her name had been, between Dwalin and Breben, glaring up at Dwalin.  
  
“What’s going on here?” Bilbo asked and stepped out of the room. Twelve pairs of eyes turned his way and ten pairs widened before immediately looking away.  
  
“You’re not dressed, Bilbo,” Trinn muttered.  
  
“I have trousers on,” Bilbo protested. Aster grinned at him.  
  
“And very nice trousers too.”  
  
“Don’t look at him like that,” Dwalin growled.  
  
“I don’t know how you look at someone, Master Dwarf, but I _need_ to use my eyes.”  
  
-  
  
After some very confusing explanations, and some (slightly) less confusing explanations for the explanations, Bilbo had learnt that (for reason which were still not entirely clear) all of his companions had been waiting outside his room when they had seen Aster coming down the corridor, and when asking her what she was doing she’d told them she’d been planning on talking to Bilbo.  
  
Sometime after that things had gotten noisy.  
  
Aster tucked a few wayward curls behind her ear. “I just wanted to talk to him. I was hardly about to tear off his clothes and-“  
  
Bilbo groaned and closed his eyes. So either someone _had_ accused her of that before he’d opened the door, or she must have been thinking about it to make that leap so quickly. Which meant that either Dwalin had continued being ridiculous and inflicted his theories on the others, or he’d not been quite so ridiculous after all. It was hard to know which was worse.

“He’s _married_.” Dwalin curled his fingers around Bilbo’s wrist and lifted up his hand to show her the ring.  
  
“I didn’t know that,” Aster huffed and gave Bilbo a narrowed eye look. “You could have said.” Her eyes narrowed further still. “Wait, you’re not wearing a ring.”  
  
“I’m not?” Bilbo asked, other hand immediately reaching up to feel for it.  
  
“No, not you. Him.” She nodded to Dwalin. “If he’s married to you, where’s your ring?”  
  
“He’s not married to _me_ ,” Dwalin growled. “He’s married to my King and brother-in-arms Tho-“  
  
“ _King_?!”  
  
“Oh dear,” Bilbo muttered.  
  
“A Baggins married a king? A Dwarven king?” Aster’s eyes grew round as goose eggs. “That’s why you’re running about with a dozen Dwarfs? Is one of them a _king_?”  
  
“There’s just eleven of them,” Bilbo muttered darkly and snatched his hand back from Dwalin. “And no, my husband isn’t here.”  
  
“Because he is waiting back home with their _children_ ,” Dwalin pressed and glared at Aster, who, to her credit, glared right back and stomped her foot.  
  
“If I didn’t know he was married I’d hardly enquired about any little ones either.” Suddenly the lass grinned at Dwalin, deep dimples showing in her cheeks, . “So are _you_ seeing anyone? You’re cute when you’re being all protective.”  
  
Fraff gasped, Dwalin’s face coloured an alarming shade of red, and Bilbo sighed. What the others did he didn’t even dare to turn his head to find out.  
  
-  
  
“I’m _sorry_ ,” Fraff apologised the next morning during breakfast. “But would you- I find myself having questions about what happened last night.”  
  
Bilbo swallowed a sigh, and another bite of his porridge and nodded; pretending that the entire room wasn’t now eavesdropping on them. It wasn’t just them in the dining hall, and apparently Aster had decided to share the news about him being married to a king, or she’d at least told them something that had caught their interest because they’d not gotten this sort of looks last night. At least Aster wasn’t anywhere in sight. Breakfasts were much more lovely without Dwalin growling at anyone.  
  
“Not only was she planning on meeting you alone on the very evening of your first meeting, but she also-“ the Dwarf hesitated. “She was very quick to move her affections from you to Master Dwalin.”  
  
“I’d not call it affections,” Bilbo said and reached for the butter with his free hand. “Let’s say interest. Which _could_ be friendly as well.”  
  
Dwalin snorted, but did not develop his line of reasoning beyond that.  
  
“Right,” Bilbo, putting his spoon down. “There’s some things I think I should have explained better before we even left Erebor.”  
  
“Oh this will be fun,” Dwalin muttered.  
  
It wasn’t.  
  
-  
  
“It is possible to sleep together, without any actual sleeping taking place, without wanting to marry that person,” Bilbo said for roughly the sixth time. Why, oh why, did he always end up repeating himself to Dwarfs? “You don’t even need to be courting as long as you both are aware that it’s just for fun.”  
  
“But,” Ginn stuttered. “The same night you first _meet_?”  
  
“You’d not know anything about them,” Jem protested. “What if you don’t even like them?”  
  
“What if they won’t like you?” Trinn said, her nose scrunched up. “Maybe you’ve nothing to talk about?”  
  
“As there’s not a marriage waiting I don’t see how that matters?” Bilbo said. “As long as the time spent together was enjoyable. And you both know not to expect more from each other.”  
  
Jem leaned back in his chair, eyes somewhat glassy with shock. At least Bilbo thought it was shock. The Dwarf’s mouth opened, but closed again without managing any words.  
  
“Good work, Bilbo,” Dwalin murmured. “You broke one of my finest.”  
  
“But why would you _want_ to tupp them if you don’t like them?” Lev asked and scratched his beard.  
  
“You might like the look of them?” Bilbo suggested. “Even before I’d properly gotten to know Thorin I thought he was very handsome.” Perhaps not handsome enough that Bilbo would have agreed to go to bed with him, he had been awfully grumpy after all, but yes, handsome indeed. “But it’s a poor idea to marry someone just because they’ve caught your eye.”  
  
“How do you know when you’re courting and when you’re not courting then?” Liv asked. “Is that where flowers come in?” Everyone, at least all Dwarfs not named Dwalin, perked up. Well, also with the exception for Jem, who still looked like he’d been dropped on his head.  
  
“Not- well, it can happen like that,” Bilbo admitted. “But you can also give flowers to someone, and make conversation with them, and still not want to start to court them.”  
  
“Then how would you know which one it is?” Trinn asked.  
  
“I’ve always found that any variation on ‘I like you and would like to court you, would you like that too?’ works rather well.”  
  
“How terribly forward,” Fraff said and folded his arms over his chest.  
  
Bilbo was beginning to understand more about the Dwarven methods of courtship than he’d ever really wanted to. Especially seeing as he was already married to one of them and thus not even in a position to take advantage of it.  
  
But perhaps his plans for Dwalin and Nori might benefit from it. Or indeed when his children came of age.  
  
“Would you like some more pancakes and bacon?” their very kind, and patient, hostess asked.  
  
“Yes, please and thank you,” nine Dwarfs chorused. Jem made a small grunting sound. Dwalin a larger one. Bilbo rather thought they both meant yes.  
  
  
-  
  
“No, I did _not_ at all mean you _should_ spend the night with someone who does not like you. Or who you do not like.” Bilbo pointed his fork at Trinn. “There’s plenty of people in the world, many of them who will like you, and who you will also like. Pick one of them instead.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Any more questions can wait until we leave or we’ll never get to Hobbiton today. Eat up so we can leave.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“ _No_.”  
  
-  
  
The sun had started to set when they _finally_ arrived to Hobbiton, and despite an urge to jump off his pony and throw himself on the grass and just breathe, Bilbo took their little company straight to the Gamgee’s door, because he rather hoped someone had eventually locked the doors he’d left open, (someone _must_ have or Lobelia would already have moved in) and Hobson would have been just the Hobbit to do it.

“Hamfast?” Bilbo asked once the door had been opened. “My goodness how you’ve grown.”  
  
“Mister Bi- Baggins?”  
  
“Bilbo will do quite nicely,” Bilbo said and smiled _up_ at the young lad. “What _have_ your mother been feeding you? You didn’t even reach my shoulder when I last saw you.”  
  
“I- Dwarfs,” Hamfast said as his gaze fell on Bilbo’s companions.  
  
“I would hope she haven’t fed you Dwarfs,” Bilbo smiled. “I hear they’ve got parasites in their tubes.”  
  
“Oh for the love of-“ Dwalin muttered. “That wasn’t even funny the first time.”

“Would you be a dear and get either of your parents for me?” Bilbo asked, and the question seemed to shake Hamfast out of his daze.  
  
“Oh, Mister Bilbo, please come in. You’ve missed dinner, but supper is-“  
  
“I’m afraid we can’t stay,” Bilbo said and patted the lad on his shoulder. “And not only because I know what eleven Dwarfs would do to your mother’s cupboards. I was merely-“  
  
“Hamfast? Who is it at the-“  
  
Bilbo’s smile widened as Briar Gamgee walked out in the hallway behind her son.

“-door? Mister _Baggins_?”  
  
“Bilbo,” Bilbo insisted, not even caring that the size of his grin must make him seem somewhat unstable. He was going to get that reputation anyway, he would bet his pipe on it, so might as well enjoy it.

-  
  
Despite Bilbo’s protests, he, and his Dwarven companions, were invited in for tea, (after Bilbo had managed to convince Briar that they definitely couldn’t stay for supper) and it was almost worth the delay just to see Dwalin try and hold a tiny little teacup in his hands without accidentally breaking it.

There’d not been enough chairs in the kitchen for everyone, and the day Briar Gamgee would make a guest sit on the floor would never ever come, which meant that Erebor’s best and brightest warriors were sitting on piles of pillows with beautiful flowery embroidery, most of them looking as wary as Dwalin did about the frail cups in their hands. The rest of the Gamgee family had been banished elsewhere, because with everyone seated there was just enough room to walk in the kitchen, but that would become an issue did they seat even a single person more.

“You’ve finally settled down then?” Briar asked Bilbo as she offered a plate full of biscuits to Liv. “Take two, lad, you look like you’re still growing. But really, Bilbo, did you have to do it with a king?”  
  
Dwalin bristled, and when Bilbo elbowed him he didn’t even bother to pretend to feel it.  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield is-“  
  
“Biscuit?” Briar said and offered Dwalin the plate.  
  
“No,” Dwalin said defiantly. “Thorin Oakenshield is-“  
  
“There’s raisins in them,” Briar wheedled and held the plate a little closer.  
  
“I’ll have his,” Bilbo said and reached across Dwalin to try and get a couple. Briar pulled the plate back and tutted at him.  
  
“Did you forget to bring your manners when you left Erebar.”  
  
“Erebor,” Dwalin rumbled.  
  
“Erebor,” Briar corrected herself. “Do you like oatmeal ones better?”  
  
“He’s upset that you insulted Thorin,” Bilbo said and wondered if he could ask Liv to give up one of his biscuits. A royal command perhaps? At this rate Bilbo would never get any of his own. And no one made better biscuits than Briar Gamgee.  
  
“I would never insult your husband,” Briar protested. “But has he tried to _not_ be a king? He might like it. Seems like lot of work to be king. Who is helping you with the weeding?”  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield,” Dwalin began again. “Is a _great_ king.”  
  
Briar patted his hand. “I’m sure he is. I could throw together some muffins if that would suit you better?”

That was when the Gamgee’s oldest child, May, wandered into the room, wheat-coloured curls tied up in a messy bun on her head, and her nose quite firmly buried in a thick book.  
  
She’d also managed to grow up when Bilbo had been away, and after one look at her Liv’s cheeks turned strawberry red, and he hurriedly focused on his tea cup. Which was why he missed May looking up from her book, glance at Liv, and just as quickly glance back down again.  
  
“Mum, have you seen my yellow dress?”  
  
“Many times,” Briar said and tilted her head. “More often than not on you, or in your closet. As you’re not wearing it right now, have you tried the closet.”  
  
“Um,” May said and snuck another glance at Liv. “No?”  
  
“Then I would suggest you start there. Why are you carrying around that book?”  
  
“I’m reading it,” May said and raised her chin. “I read.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Briar said and put the plate down on the table. Bilbo quickly snagged a biscuit and – since Briar wasn’t looking - dunked it in his tea. “Usually you do it sitting down, and not while walking.”  
  
“I’m on my way to sit down,” May said, injured. “I just wanted to ask you about the dress.”  
  
“Did you need it to sit down?”  
  
“Muuuum.” Another glance at Liv, and a quick flick of her eyes to Bilbo who smiled at her before happily taking another bite of the biscuit. “You’re embarrassing me in front of Mister Baggins and his friends.”  
  
“Then my work as a parent is done,” Briar mused before turning back to Dwalin. “How about a peach cobbler?”  
  
-  


“How old is she?” Liv asked Bilbo as they led their ponies along towards Bag End. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’ll feel horrible. I know I’ll feel horrible. I’ll just- I don’t need to know. I’ll not see her again.” He was quiet for a few moments. “So how long would I have to wait before she came of age? Just- out of curiosity.”  
  
Bilbo opened his mouth.  
  
“No-“ Liv shook his head. “Don’t tell me.”  
  
Dwalin muttered something beneath his breath, but with his beard full of biscuit crumbs he didn’t look particularly fierce.  
  
“I changed my mind, tell me,” Liv said after another few feet. Lev, walking just behind his brother, sighed. 

Alarmed, Liv spun around to look at him. “Don’t tell me you liked her too. You can’t. I saw her first. Not that I would- Not that she would- But you _can’t_.”

“I’m not-“  
  
However Liv had already deflated. “Though I guess she would like you better. You’re older. More experienced. The better fighter. She deserves someone like you. I get it.”  
  
“Liv,” Bilbo interrupted. “Are you aware you’ve not even spoken to her? And that your brother hasn’t either.”  
  
“I will help you pick flowers for her, if you want,” Liv told Lev earnestly. “It would be an honour. You would have beautiful children together.”  
  
“Apparently not,” Bilbo muttered. He still thought that if you had to pick, then having a tumble with someone you didn’t know had to be better than immediately beginning to work out which one of you your kids would take after the most. Especially when it ended up being your brother.  
  
“I’m _not_ interested in her,” Lev said and Liv immediately bristled.  
  
“There’s nothing _wrong_ with her, she was lovely.”  
  
 _Dwarfs_ … Though maybe this was something shared by young people everywhere. But still, Dwarfs….  
  
-  
  
Bilbo hesitated before opening the door to Bag End. But just for a moment. Then he put the key to the lock, fumbling a little as it was now very dark outside and the torches they had could only do so much, but moments later the door slid open.

“I’m back,” Bilbo whispered. As much to himself as to Bag End as to Dwalin and the others.  
  
He stepped over the threshold and into the smial that had been his home for half a century.

Suddenly he missed Thorin and the children so much it hurt. To have them with him here, even just for a shorter visit, that would- it would- he didn’t even have the words.  
  
To see Thorin sitting in the chair in front of the fire, reading to Della, to nap with the triplets outside beneath the oak tree, to get to make breakfast for them, and Fíli and Kíli and Dís and serve it on his mother’s dishes.

“I didn’t realise how much I missed this place until just now,” Bilbo said and stopped by his mother’s glory box.  
  
“Huh,” Dwalin grunted, and unseen to Bilbo the Dwarfs' shoulders stiffened.  
  
“Do you think,” Bilbo continued. “That we could arrange for a few things to be sent to Erebor? One of the trade caravans might-“ he turned to look at Dwalin and frowned at the expression on the Dwarf’s face. “I didn’t mean my mother’s pottery,” Bilbo said and crossed his arms. “I’m not foolish enough to think it’d survive the trip. Besides we'll need it when we come for visits. But perhaps-“  
  
“Yes,” Dwalin said.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Yes, we can arrange that while we’re here. Anything you want.”  
  
Bilbo looked at his friend and smiled. “Don’t say that, I was just thinking how nice it would be to nap with the children beneath the oak tree outside.”  
  
Breben looked contemplative. “We would need a lot of ponies.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I give up. This will be as many chapters as it wants to be.  
> I don't even know. It's the cuddly fluffy sibling to the bunny that bit my big bang story. *throws hands up* 
> 
> And that sounds like a good thing but it won't be when we're all senior citizens and this thing is on chapter 1287 and it's still going.  
> Think of the children! Bilbo needs to get back to Erebor *shakes head*
> 
> And without further whining, here's a new chapter, lol

Breakfast was not as Bilbo would have wanted it, but eating what they had brought with them was better than going without. And waiting for the market to open… well, that would probably mean going to the market with eleven hungry Dwarfs. Which… not the best start when it came to introducing them to Hobbiton.  
  
Though _that_ might be moot anyway considering what had happened earlier that morning but regardless… Bilbo had learnt not to push his luck when not necessary.  
  
Somewhat boring rations or not, it was wonderful to be back in Bag End. Most of the time anyway.  
  
See: what had happened that morning, and add, what had happened the day before.  
  
-  
  
Last night there had first been the realisation that everything was horribly dusty, including the beds. Even including the cleaning supplies.  
  
There was much sneezing and complaining about having to clean (the latter all from Dwalin) before Bilbo decided that the smial was fit to sleep in, at least with the windows left open.  
  
This prompted even more complaining from Dwalin, but he eventually had to admit that the only thing likely to attack a Dwarf in the Shire was stomach cramps from eating too much. And if anything else felt like attacking them they probably could have broken through the windows anyway.  
  
The second problem was a more unexpected one.  
  
Bilbo had just been on the verge of falling asleep when he’d sat straight up in a panic as he couldn’t hear anyone snoring. He’d rushed to his feet to try and find whatever monster had stolen his companions when… when he had realised that Bag End had much thicker walls than most inns, and that he probably wouldn’t hear anyone snoring until it was time to leave again.  
  
While this should have been a joyful occasion it proved anything but.  
  
Lying alone in bed, hearing nothing but his own breaths… Bilbo _couldn_ ’t fall asleep. It was entirely too quiet, and he didn’t like it one bit. And what didn't help was how it also reminded him a bit of the last time he’d been unable to fall asleep in Bag End. With different set of Dwarfs spread out in every nook and cranny, and with a certain song still seeming to echo down the halls.  
  
After an hour or so of tossing and turning Bilbo relocated to an armchair just outside the room he’d given Liv and Lev, and made sure that their door was just slightly ajar. He’d no sooner opened the door before comforting snores were audible, and with a smile Bilbo curled up beneath his pile of blankets and almost instantly fell asleep.  
  
Of course this ended up being a not so brilliant idea after all as Bilbo was awoken the next morning by Dwalin shouting about someone having been kidnapped.

-

Crawling out from beneath his blankets, Bilbo looked over the back of the chair as Liv and Lev galloped out of their room, pulling on clothes as they went.  
  
As Bilbo trotted after them out in the corridor, he heard Dwalin’s angry yelling coming from down the hall.  
  
“- we’ll split in two groups. And someone will have to stay here in case there is-“  
  
“It’s entirely too early for this,” Bilbo murmured and rubbed at his eyes.  
  
He didn’t mean to be uncaring, but he severely doubted that one of the guards had been kidnapped. And as he’d seen Liv, he’d not snuck off to gaze yearningly at the Gamgee’s house either.  
  
Someone might have gone out for a smoke though, but with the way Dwalin was yelling they’d soon to come right back inside.  
  
A good pipe before breakfast sounded just about right, and yawning Bilbo went to his bedroom for his dressing gown and pipe.  
  
Dwalin was much like the children really, as long as there were shouting that was quite all right, that just helped you locate them.  
  
It was when there was shouting followed by an abrupt silence you had to worry, which was why Bilbo actually began to worry when he walked out into the hall, pipe in hand, and everyone instantly fell silent.  
  
Albeit not for long.  
  
“Praised be Mahal,” Fraff breathed and bowed his head in thanks.  
  
“Bilbo!” Trinn exclaimed and rushed towards him. “You’re safe!”  
  
Bilbo didn’t have time to reply before her arms were squeezing the air out of his lungs, and he only barely managed to hold on to his pipe and keep it on an even keel.  
  
“Where’ve you been?!” Dwalin demanded, and that’s when things clicked for Bilbo.  
  
“You thought _I_ had been kidnapped?”  
  
“You were not in your room,” Dwalin said and folded his arms over his chest. “Not in the kitchen. Not outside. Not _anywhere_ I looked.” His frown deepened. “Don’t tell me you were invisible. Bilbo, you cannot-“  
  
“I was sleeping in the chair outside Liv’ and Lev’s room,” Bilbo defended. “I’d hardly call that invisible.”  
  
“Um,” Liv said and looked at his brother. “I’d like to point out that we didn’t know about this, and also, why were you sleeping there?”  
  
Bilbo stood a little straighter. “That is… none of your business. “ A Hobbit had to keep a little dignity.  
  
Liv blinked at him for a second, then he looked away, and his shoulders slumped. “I see," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."  
  
And now Bilbo felt terrible. Hadn’t he spent months trying to get them to talk freely to him? And this was how-  
  
“A word,” Dwalin growled, snagging Bilbo’s arm and dragging him along.  
  
At least Dwalin could be counted on to always be Dwalin, Bilbo mused. And by a happy coincidence Dwalin seemed set on dragging him outside, so he would get that pipe after all.  
  
As the door closed behind them Bilbo shook off Dwalin’s hand and looked up at him. “You can’t seriously be this upset about me not sleeping in my own bed. If you’d searched a little-”  
  
“I thought you and Balin had cleared this up before we left,” Dwalin said darkly, glaring down at him.  
  
“Where I should sleep?” Bilbo blinked. “I assure you, it did not even enter into what we discussed.”  
  
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”  
  
This was going to be such a long day if it started out like this. Especially if any neighbours were up and about and saw them arguing. Not at all how he'd been planning on introducing Hobbiton to the concept of Dwarfs.  
  
Bilbo tapped his fingers against the stem of his pipe. “Dwalin, I _don’t_ know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Fine,” Dwalin grunted. “Sure, if you say so, _your majesty_.”  
  
“Do not make me pull your beard,” Bilbo said and narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was sleeping, woke up because you were shouting, and then I have no idea what happened.”  
  
“And _what_ did you think was going to happen last night? Something that made you decide not to sleep in your bed?”  
  
“The only thing I thought about was actually getting some sleep,” Bilbo shot back. When Dwalin just continued to glare at him Bilbo threw his arms up, almost ending up tipping the weed from the pipe. “All right, I’ll admit what I was doing.”  
  
“Finally,” Dwalin snorted.  
  
“I couldn’t sleep,” Bilbo said and reached up to poke Dwalin in the chest. “Because my ears have gone insane, and if I don’t hear at least a couple of Dwarfs snoring I can’t. Go. To. _Sleep_.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don’t know!” Bilbo exclaimed. “Thorin snores every now and again, but-“  
  
“No,” Dwalin protested. “That wasn’t why you-“  
  
“I think I know-“  
  
“And I can’t believe that-“  
  
“Um?” They both turned to see Jem being pushed out the door by Trinn and Lev. “We can actually hear you inside,” the Dwarf said and rubbed awkwardly at his neck. “Just- thought you might want to know.”  
  
Bilbo poked at Dwalin’s chest again, and once more when he couldn’t actually think of something to say.  
  
“Go inside and cover your ears then,” Dwalin growled before looking back down at Bilbo.  
  
“No,” Bilbo said, finding his tongue. “Stay and explain what in the world Dwalin is trying to tell me, because Valar knows I’m not understanding any of it.”  
  
“I’ll say it straight out then,” Dwalin said and lifted his chin. “You didn’t trust Liv not to run off to that lass that he fell beard over boots for last night. And I don’t even know what you though would- even though Balin spoke to you at _length_ about how courtships-“  
  
Bilbo gaped up at his friend. “You think- _no_!”  
  
“No, _you_ think,” Dwalin said darkly. “And I can’t believe you’d-“  
  
“I couldn’t sleep!” Bilbo shouted. “I couldn’t sleep because apparently when I can’t hear snoring my mind thinks something _horrible_ has happened! Liv’ and Lev’s room was just the closest one with a spot for me to sleep in. I’d- tonight I’d be _more_ than happy to listen to you make a ruckus if that would make you believe me. Goodness knows you snore for two.” A thought occurred to him. “Oh no, don’t tell me Liv thinks that your moronic idea is the truth of it. Liv!”  
  
A dark head shyly poked up behind Jem’s grey one.  
  
“Come here,” Bilbo said, more kindly.  
  
With his head lowered, Liv slunk out to stand next to Dwalin. “None of that now,” Bilbo said and took his hand. “I swear to you, on Thorin’s beard, or my children, or whatever is more appropriate, that I trust you completely. I only had a rough time falling asleep.”  
  
“You’re supposed to swear on your own beard,” Dwalin muttered.  
  
“I’ll just grow one first shall I?” Bilbo hissed. “Thorin won’t mind me borrowing his a little.”  
  
“You- trust me?” Liv’s dark eyes looked a little wet as he raised his head to look at Bilbo, and Bilbo’s heart melted.  
  
“Of course I do, sweetheart.”  
  
“Oh for-“ Dwalin shook his head. “Don’t call my guards ‘ _sweetheart_ ’.”  
  
“Don’t open your mouth again unless you want your beard shoved into it,” Bilbo said. “We _will_ have a talk later, trust me.”  
  
The Hobbit patted Liv’s hand and gave it a small squeeze before letting it go. He was hardly more than a young boy, poor thing. And even though Bilbo had indeed considered him sneaking away, (something he wasn't going to mention out of everyone's best interests) he’d not entertained the _slightest_ thought that he’d do more than to give the Gamgee’s residence a few mooning looks from a distance.  
  
Dwalin on the other hand deserved a swift kick up his bum. First there’d been the deplorable behaviour at the inn, and now this? If he kept this up he Bilbo would make him stay inside Bag End for the rest of this trip.  
  
-  
  
After breakfast, which had been filling if somewhat boring and definitely somewhat tense, Bilbo _kindly_ told Dwalin that they needed to talk.  
  
“The rest of you are free to do as you please, as I _trust_ you,” Bilbo emphasised, looking at Dwalin. “But there won’t be a lot of people around this time of day just so you know. And someone really should check no the ponies. And if you do go down to the market, _don’t_ wear all of your armour and leave your weapons here or you’ll give someone a fright.”  
  
“We’ll sort it out,” Lev promised, and Bilbo smiled at him and rose from the table.

“Excellent. Dwalin, would you _please_ join me in the study?”  
  
Not waiting for a reply Bilbo headed that way.  
  
-  
  
“The last time I’ve seen anyone this suspicious-“ Bilbo shook his head. “No I don’t think I’ve _ever_ seen someone be this suspicious of everything. Not even Thorin whenever we get a messenger from Mirkwood. At least not lately.”  
  
“I know what you and Balin talked about,” Dwalin said stubbornly. “And how he took you to meet some of the guards. And Fíli and Kíli told me about what you said to them as well. The lads were very upset about it.”  
  
“And I apologised,” Bilbo pointed out. “I still think my concern was valid, but I’m now equally convinced it was unnecessary. If a lad or lass walked by Bag End entirely starkers I think the worst our lot would do is blush and maybe sneak a peek. _Maybe_.”  
  
“Your kind usually walk around without clothes?” Dwalin asked.  
  
“It was just- _no_ ,” Bilbo sighed. “We don’t. As you should know.”  
  
“How should I know,” Dwalin protested. “I’ve only met _you_. And the ones at the inns. And that.. that.. the one who _was_ flirting with you I’d not be surprised if _she’d_ do a thing like that. She would have gladly dragged you into bed if-”

“Ah,” Bilbo said. “That brings me onto our next topic of discussion.”  
  
Bilbo lifted his hand and very pointedly tapped his left ring finger, emphasis on the _ring_ , to the biggest flower on his cloak pin. “Even if everyone in the world; Hobbits, Dwarfs, Men, Elves, _everyone_ , decided to try and get me into bed with them, I’d not accept. Because I love _Thorin_. Thorin,” Bilbo repeated. “Sound familiar? About your height, dark hair with a bit of silver in it. Your oldest friend?”  
  
“But-“  
  
“I’m not done,” Bilbo said. “I’m not saying that I never need you to look out for me, that would be stupid as I’d not survived the trip to Erebor in the first place without you and the others looking out for me. But there’s still plenty of times when I can take care of myself too.”  
  
“What if you don’t know the difference between those two,” Dwalin said gruffly.  
  
“If an Orc is trying to flirt with me, feel free to throw an axe at it,” Bilbo said with a shrug, and a bit of a shudder. “Otherwise I think I can handle situations like that just fine. I’ve been courted before Thorin you know, and I know how to deal with unwanted attention.”  
  
Dwalin was silent for a while. “We’d not gotten to Erebor without you looking out for us in turn.”  
  
Bilbo grinned up at him, because he knew an apology from Dwalin when he heard one. “Stop it or you’ll make my head big enough not to fit inside Bag End.”  
  
Dwalin snorted.  
  
“Want to come with me to the market?” Bilbo suggested as a peace offering. “I will need someone to help me carry all the food I’ll have to buy to feed you all. Or spend the rest of the day running back and forth.”  
  
“I think you’ll not lack for volunteers,” Dwalin said with a wry smile.

-  
  
Going down to the market made Bilbo feel a bit like a mother goose. All the Dwarfs but Dwalin (who was 'scouting' ahead) trailed after him like they were frightened ducklings. Or well, terribly curious ducklings with some separation anxiety.  
  
If he’d been inclined to wear skirts, Bilbo was sure someone would have been clutching them. Probably Fraff considering the way he was holding on to the basket he was carrying. Bilbo hoped he wouldn’t manage to break it before they were finished with it.  
  
The Gamgee’s smial was on the way from Bag End, and Briar was out in garden, something that brought the hint of a scowl to Bilbo’s face as he remembered the state he was likely to find his own garden in when he got back home.  
  
There was a slim chance Thorin or someone else would think to water the plants, but it was slim indeed. Dís probably would have, had she not been busy helping to rule Erebor while Thorin wrangled the children. And the pets. And maybe Nori too considering the way he got when he was sulking.  
  
He bit back a sigh, heart aching a little for more than just his garden. No matter, he would be home soon. And as for the garden there would be more seeds and plants come next spring. And he might even have time to get some tulip bulbs down into the earth when they got back. That way there would at least be something living there. Except weeds. Because if there was something sure to survive without being watered it’d be those blasted things.  
  
“Good morning to you!” Briar called and brushed off her hands on her apron before walking up to the path. “To the market is it?”  
  
“And a good morning to you,” Bilbo smiled. “Yes, indeed. And we shall see if there’s anything left after I’m done. I’ve had Dwarfs staying with me before, and my pantry have never been more empty than after they were done. Except for right now I suppose.”  
  
“Were you all right for breakfast this morning?” Briar asked and looked them all over as if she expected someone to suddenly faint from hunger. “I should have thought to ask yesterday.”  
  
“We were just fine,” Bilbo promised. “Though if you’ve got some of your most excellent biscuits to spare…” He widened his eyes in an approximation of the look that always managed to get Kíli out of the messes he got himself into.  
  
Briar Gamgee chuckled. “Why, Bilbo Baggins, I dare say you’ve changed while you’ve been away. You’ve never been this brazen about my biscuits before.”  
  
“I’ve never gone a few years without having them either,” Bilbo said apologetically. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but no one makes biscuits like you do.”  
  
“Is that so,” Briar said, eye brow raised. But there was no denying the pleased flush on her round cheeks. It made her look more like May’s older sister than her mother, and it made more than one Dwarf blush in turn, and awkwardly turn their attention to their boots.  
  
-  
  
Soon enough they continued to the market, everyone munching contently on oatmeal and cardamom biscuits, some with a slight blush still lingering.  
  
Renn and Nim had been mostly fine until Hobson had wandered outside with his shirt only partially buttoned, but then those two had quickly started on their own tomato impressions, and Bilbo rather supposed the lasses of Hobbiton wouldn’t have much use for them during this visit.  
  
He’d no sooner arrived at that conclusion before he had to snicker at himself.  
  
Considering that it really seemed as if a Dwarf would only go to bed with someone after a fair bit of courting had taken place it wasn’t likely that anyone in the Shire would find _that_ sort of use for them in the nearest future.  
  
At the time he’d not found it strange that he and Thorin hadn’t jumped straight into bed once they’d both understood that they were both perfectly happy to be courting each other. After all there hadn’t been any beds around, only a dozen Dwarfs that were always underfoot.  
  
But even if they’d started courting like two normal people Bilbo supposed things wouldn’t really have progressed any faster. And judging by Dwalin’s opinion the pace they’d gone at had been scandalous even so.  
  
Bilbo would not really have expected Dwalin to be such an curmudgeon in matters like these, but perhaps that helped explain why he and Nori hadn’t gotten anywhere in.. well, decades most likely.  
  
Though Nori certainly wasn’t without blame either. It took two to court. Or sometimes three, or more, but Bilbo was not about to point that out to any of his companions just yet, just in case they got the wrong image entirely about Hobbit principles.  
  
-  
  
Hobbiton's market wasn’t a terribly large one compared to the ones found in Erebor, but it had whatever a discerning Hobbit would need, even when it came to feeding close to a dozen Dwarfs, and himself, several times a day. And it had the advantage of having _much_ more vegetables and fruits, both fresh and pickled and preserved.  
  
It was quite possible that Bilbo spent entirely too long caressing a jar of cherry preserves, but he didn’t care, he was bound to get the gossip going anyway considering the company he kept, who cared if he also got a reputation for feeling up jars of delicious fruit.  
  
All in all the shopping went much better than he’d thought. Most of the people he talked to seemed rather pleased to see him, and the eleven Dwarven shadows were mostly ignored, which they seemed fine with as it allowed them to work on their impressions of a wandering bunch of sticks.  
  
Getting everyone to leave their weapons - at least all the visible ones - at Bag End had been a wise decision. They definitely looked severe enough as it was. And a little like they’d soiled their pants considering the stiff way they’d walked. But that was another thing Bilbo knew better than to point out. They'd relax sooner or later once they noticed that Hobbits were just people like anyone else.  
  
Then of course there were people like old Missus Sandydown who gestured at him to lean in before she whispered:

“They’re not keeping you prisoner, are they?”  
  
Or Missus Brown who didn’t look him in the eyes even once as she was too busy gawking at all of his companions.  
  
Or the people complimenting him on not actually being dead. They probably meant well, but they made Dwalin glower as if Bilbo being dead was some sort of personal affront and not just nonsense.  
  
But indeed, all in all, it was _fine_.  
  
And no one but Bilbo appeared to notice a certain blonde Hobbit by the name of May Gamgee lurking around the edges of the market, pretending not to be there at all while casually managing to keep Liv in her field of vision at all times.  
  
Bilbo considered calling out for her to just come and join them, but in the end decided that it was better not to. If the lass felt like lurking for the time being then she would likely never forgive him for pointing it out.  
  
No need to put a stop to it as long as she didn’t end up lurking outside a certain someone’s bedroom. If anyone saw her there was going to be heart attacks all around. Then again, that spot might be taken already unless Bilbo’s mind either relaxed, or if he ended up sleeping closer to Dwalin. (Bilbo had not exagerated Dwalin's ability to snore before. He wasn't as bad as Glóin or Bombur, but it was a close call.)  
  
-

“Mind were you put your feet,” Bilbo cautioned as they began to climb the steps leading up to Bag End’s door. “Especially you, Ginn. I’ve got my heart set on some nice omelettes for luncheon, and that will be hard if the eggs are all broken on the ground.”  
  
“How many of your plates did the lads break while they were having a lark?” Dwalin asked from somewhere behind the sacks of vegetables he was carrying. “Oh, that’s right. None.”  
  
“The lot of you broke my plumbing though,” Bilbo said.  
  
“And we fixed it before leaving, didn’t we?”  
  
“That’s entirely beside the point as you can’t just muck about with an egg and have it back to the way it was.”  
  
“Just open the bloody door. ‘ _Muck about’_ ,” Dwalin muttered. “The great Dwarven tradition of mucking about. Practised by all artisans and skilled craft workers.”  
  
-  
  
He was less ornery after lunch. Again, much like the children.  
  
Sadly he did not appreciate Bilbo’s suggestion for a nap. Which… again, the children weren’t always that fond of that concept either. But there were some inherent difficulties when it came to simply picking Dwalin up and rocking him until he fell asleep.  
  
-  
  
As the afternoon came around Bilbo realised that he needed to begin to prepare for the wedding.  
  
The presents were already taken care of, but there was the small matter of making sure that everything else was as well. And they should probably leave for Buckland  a little early just in case there was anything Prim and Drogo needed help with. And suddenly there just didn’t seem to be much time at all before the wedding.  
  
Especially once he realised that Dwalin hadn’t brought any other clothes than the ones suited for travelling and fighting in.  
  
“Not looking to impress anyone,” was the Dwarf's comment on the matter, and to be kind, Bilbo refrained to point out that a more accurate description of it would have been that Dwalin wasn’t looking to impress anyone present in this part of the world.  
  
“You’re not going to a wedding in leather and-“ Bilbo squinted. “Whatever kind of metal that is. And before you get all uppity on me, try and name three flowers and see how well you fare at that.”  
  
“Blue, purple and red ones,” Dwalin said, his eyes narrowing. “Those are kinds of flowers.”  
  
“I don’t know why I bother sometimes.”  
  
-  
  
“Do not, I repeat, do _not_ scare the seamstress,” Bilbo hissed. “She is the best in the whole of Hobbiton, and I’ll have a difficult time as it is to convince her to have mercy on your clothes. Or rather, everyone’s eyes at the wedding if you show up like that.”  
  
Dwalin didn’t reply, but he acquired a distinctly mulish expression.  
  
-  
  
“Please, Miss Barry, just _look_ at him.”  
  
Miss Barry pursed her lips. “I’m not blind, but I don’t have the _time_ , Master Baggins.”  
  
“But he can’t go to a wedding like this,” Bilbo protested. “Surely-“  
  
“I don’t have the time,” Miss Barry repeated. “And I’ve got nothing partially made that will come even close to fit those shoulders.” Her expression softened a little once she saw Bilbo’s dejected look. “Tell you what though, how about I get my apprentice to give it a go, and I’ll keep an eye on him while he works on it. It'll cost you my regular price though.”  
  
“That would be most kind of you,” Bilbo breathed, nudging Dwalin in the side when he muttered something beneath his breath.  
  
“Addy! Come in here, please!”  
  
A harried looking lad rushed out from the back of the shop, pins held between his lips and curls sticking up every which way on his head.  
  
“Yes, Miss Barry?” he asked, slightly muffled from the pins.  
  
“Get your measuring tape, Addy,” she said and nodded at Dwalin. “You’re making that one a shirt and some nice trousers.” She raised an eyebrow at Bilbo. “Pants I hope you can sort out yourself.”  
  
“I’m sure,” Bilbo said and reached out to take Miss Barry’s hand. “My thanks.”  
  
There was a small meeping sound from Addy’s direction.  
  
“I hope you didn’t swallow a needle, Addy,” Miss Barry said sternly.  
  
-  
  
“Could you please stop complaining,” Bilbo said to Dwalin. “I know there are plenty of tailors and seamstresses in Erebor too. There’s no possible way you’ve never been measured for clothes before.”  
  
Dwalin did not stop complaining, there was a continuous stream of muttered complaints falling from his mouth, too low for Bilbo to quite make out any actual words, but there was no doubting the general sentiment.  
  
Bilbo wasn’t sure if Dwalin was more opposed being half-naked around someone he’d just met, or if there was something else that was bothering him more, but either way it would all be over that much quicker if he’d just co-operate.  
  
Addy was holding up beautifully under the pressure though, and Bilbo was going to sing his praises loud and clear to Miss Barry.  
  
“Please hold our your arms,” the lad said, nudging the little stepping stool to Dwalin’s right side so he could reach properly. Looking as if he was being tortured, Dwalin slowly did as he was asked.  
  
They hit a snag when the time came to the measures for the trousers.  
  
Addy’s face was red but he didn’t back down. “Either you tell me or I’ll have to look a lot closer once you’re dressed again.”  
  
“How tight are you planning on making these trousers,” Dwalin said and glared down at the dark-haired lad.  
  
“Tight enough that they’ll not look like a sack,” Addy defended. “And just measuring the inseams will not be enough. I need to know which way you, um, dress.”  
  
“I’m not above bribing you with cookies if that means we’ll finish this quicker,” Bilbo said when Dwalin’s forehead creased. “Any kind you like.”  
  
And that was what prompted a second trip to the market that day.

-  
  
Arriving at Bag End revealed a situation that Bilbo hadn’t expected.  
  
“What _are_ you doing?”  
  
“Cleaning?” Edda offered as she walked by carrying an armful of rugs. “Last night you said it was good _enough_ , so we thought we’d have another go at it.”  
  
Liv sneezed. “I don’t know when someone last wiped down that chandelier. I swear there was an inch of dust.”  
  
Dwalin bit into a cookie and nodded approvingly. “Good.”  
  
Bilbo wasn’t sure if he meant the cookie or the cleaning, or just the fact that he didn't need to be involved in the cleaning.  
  
-  
  
Tea was served in a spotless dining room, and something pleased curled up inside Bilbo’s stomach.  
  
Bag End was sparkling clean, the gardens outside were devoid of weeds (and also missing some flowers, but he’d not expected otherwise), the pantry was full, and Dwalin wouldn’t show up at the wedding wearing armour.  
  
Things were-  
  
Bilbo jumped a little as someone suddenly pounded on the door. Someone who did not sound pleased at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who could it be?


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss this story? I know I did! (feel free to tell me I'm not alone)
> 
> ps  
> (I’m continuing to screw with people’s ages in this story, for my own amusement, and hopefully for yours)

Before Bilbo could even get up from his chair someone knocked again. This time much more politely.  
  
As he got to his feet all of the Dwarfs joined him, except Dwalin.  
  
“Orcs don’t knock,” he mumbled, mouth full of the sandwiches Bilbo had prepared. “Told me to let you handle things on your own.” He swallowed, quite noisily. “If it is an Orc, shout.”  
  
Bilbo’s brow furrowed as whoever it was standing outside his door once more banged away at it like they’d get a prize for bruising their knuckles. Or for denting his door. “I certainly won’t invite them for tea if they’re Orcs. Please sit down,” he added to the others. “As Dwalin says, I’m perfectly capable of handling this.”  
  
“Didn’t say that,” Dwalin snorted. “Just that you _wanted_ to handle thi-.”  
  
“My kitchen,” Bilbo said and raised his chin. “My decision if you’ll get any dessert after dinner.”  
  
Dwalin possessively curled his arm around the tin of shortbread cookies. “I’ll survive.”  
  
“And so will I opening the door.”  
  
The banging sound of an abused door echoed through the smial once more.  
  
“Or so I hope,” Bilbo added.  
  
Fraff looked genuinely worried.  
  
-  
  
“Briar?” Bilbo started to say as he recognized his (once again, for the time being) neighbour, surprised to find her responsible for the ruckus. But he didn’t get any further than ‘Br-‘ before someone else pushed in front of her and glared up at him.  
  
“Lobelia,” Bilbo acknowledge, now not particularly surprised at all over the noise. “I was rather expecting you to come for a visit. Tea?”  
  
“I’m sorry for disturbing you, Bilbo,” Briar said as she moved to stand next to the younger Hobbit, giving her a pointed glare. “I was just wanting to ask you something, I ran into Miss Bracegirdle on my way here.”  
  
And I couldn’t stop her from coming along, was what Bilbo heard being said between the lines.

“You’re not dead,” Lobelia said, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
Bilbo peered down at his feet and curled and stretched his toes a few times. “No, it would appear that I’m not. Tea? Briar, how about you?”  
  
“I really can’t stay,” Briar said apologetically. “I really only stopped by to invite you to dinner. Save you the trouble of cooking when you’ve had such a long journey.”  
  
“All of us?” Bilbo asked a little disbelievingly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve seen first-hand what a group of Dwarfs will do a pantry, and I’m not sure you’d thank me for inflicting them on you.”  
  
“All of you if you’d like to come,” Briar said firmly. “I’ve eight brothers, Bilbo, and my ma’ managed to keep us all fed during their teens and tweens, I think I can handle a dozen Dwarfs for one meal.”  
  
“Eleven Dwarfs,” Bilbo smiled. “In that case, I thank you very much. Shall we come around at seven?”  
  
“Six if you feel like a bit of a snack first,” Briar nodded. “I’m making griddle scones. Hamfast is still growing, bless him. He needs the extra bit of-“  
  
Lobelia cleared her throat. “Am I supposed to stand out here like the hired help all night?”  
  
Both Bilbo and Briar glanced up at the sun which was still well above the horizon and would remain that way for several hours more.  
  
“Of course not,” Bilbo said, biting down some much less pleasant things he could have said instead. “Please come in, and Briar, I’ll see you later then and I’ll bring whoever is feeling brave enough to venture into your domain once more.”

“Keep that up and you’ll not get any biscuits,” Briar warned and Bilbo grinned at her, entirely unapologetic.  
  
“Six o'clock,” Briar reminded him before nodding politely at Lobelia, who didn’t respond except to sniff haughtily.

Bilbo bit back a sigh and told himself that he’d dealt with Dragons and Thranduil, which combined made a rough approximation of Lobelia. Except for how she didn’t breathe fire. And didn’t eat people. And hopefully she’d not acquired any dungeons since the last time Bilbo met her. This should be easy.  
  
-  
  
“ _Bilbo_?” Lobelia asked as he closed the door behind them.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“She calls you by your _name_?”  
  
“It would be awfully inconvenient if she called me by someone else’s,” Bilbo said as mildly as he could muster up. “Or if she called me by my hat size. Especially since I don’t-“  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous.”  
  
“I shall endeavour not to be.” Apparently the absence of sense of humour was another trait she shared with a certain Elven King, and Dragon. Again, it was fortunate that she didn’t breathe fire.  
  
“Everything all right?” The question came from Dwalin, standing in the door way to the dining room, cradling the tin of shortbread against his chest.  
  
He also had some whipped cream clinging to the left side of his moustache.  
  
Bilbo snorted. “But as for ridiculous, I won’t be able to guarantee anything for anyone else though.”  
  
-  
  
Bilbo looked between Lobelia and his companions and tried to figure out what they were seeing when they looked at each other.  
  
He remembered his own first impressions of Dwalin and the others, but while they’d not exactly been unbridled positive, he was pretty sure that he’d not been wearing the sort of expression that was currently to be found on Lobelia’s face. Especially since no one was walking on the table.  
  
No, in fact most everyone looked like they’d been carved from marble, that was how still they were. He wasn’t even sure if they were all breathing, and he wasn’t sure why they _weren’t_ breathing either. Lobelia might be noisy, but that was all there was to it. He’d known her all her life, and unless she’d changed a lot in the last few years, all she wanted was the things she’d never have, no more. No less.  
  
Easy enough. Or not. Which explained how she could get a little (or a lot) noisy from time to time.  
  
“Lobelia, I know that the Thain got my messages. And it’s hard for me to send messages if I’m dead.”  
  
And up into the air her nose went. “You’d not written for months, _anything_ could have happened.”  
  
“I did send a reply that I would be coming for Drogo and Prim’s wedding.”  
  
“ _Maybe_ you did,” Lobelia said with an undertone of ‘you are _lying_ , and I strongly suspect that you were actually dead and have now come back to life to spite me’.  
  
In a way Bilbo had really missed being around people like Lobelia. Dwarfs were generally very uncomplicated when it came to social interactions, for good and for bad. Maybe that was one of the reason he was so fond of Thorin, he was dratted difficult to read at times.  
  
“However I think that you’ll find that it wasn’t received by anyone,” Lobelia concluded and took a prim sip of her tea.  
  
Huh. Bilbo frowned. Well, if his letters had gotten lost that would explain why Hamfast and Briar had been so surprised to see him.  
  
Oh _no_ , did that mean that he wasn’t expected at the wedding? He’d have to find someone to carry a message first thing in the morning. Wonder if-  
  
Lobelia put her tea cup down on the saucer with just a little too much noise for it to be accidental.  
  
“But as I can see, you’re clearly not dead,” she said, and Bilbo had to fight not to smile, her acceptance sounded so reluctant it was almost sweet.  
  
He doubted that she’d feel the same if she ever actually got a little up close and personal with death; the kind that was sudden and abrupt, but he still wished that she’d never have to experience it for herself. The world needed people like Lobelia, because the world needed all sorts of people. Even noisy ones.

“I’ve had a couple of close calls,” Bilbo admitted, running his hand though his hair and thinking about the curls he’d lost to Smaug’s fire. “But indeed, here I am.”  
  
“With that in consideration,” Lobelia said, running her finger on the rim of the teacup. “You have been away from Bag End for years. Such a fine home should not be left empty, without anyone to care for it.”  
  
“I couldn’t agree more,” Bilbo said and took a sip of his tea before looking over at Dwalin. “Would you excuse us for a moment or two?”  
  
“No,” Dwalin said and frowned.  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo said, narrowing his eyes at his friend. “You _will_.”  
  
They stared at each other for a few long moments before Dwalin grunted and got to his feet, the others following his example, though with more apologetic murmurs and request to please be excused. Glaring at Bilbo, Dwalin reached out and grabbed the plate with the rest of the sandwiches with his right hand. And the tin of shortbread cookies with his left.  
  
“Mrs Gamgee will be very disappointed if you don’t clear your plate at dinner,” Bilbo called after him as he turned around and walked to the doorway.  
  
Another grunt was his reply.  
  
“She will?” Liv asked anxiously and looked down at his stomach.  
  
Edda snorted. “C’mon, we’ll go for a walk to help settle what you just devoured.”  
  
Bilbo watched as they all filed out, a small smile playing on his lips. Lobelia on the other hand, looked as if she’d taken entirely too much lemon with her tea.  
  
“Really, Bilbo,” she said and shook her head. “Your father would not have liked this. Not one bit.”  
  
“He’d been a little surprised to be sure,” Bilbo admitted. “But he would have come around. And mother would have liked having a full house.”  
  
“Yes, she would,” Lobelia agreed, leaning slightly towards Bilbo. “Don’t you see, it’s not fair on her, _their_ memory for Bag End to be abandoned. Someone needs to be here, and take care of it.”  
  
And of my spoons? Bilbo thought as he remembered what Hamfast had written in the letter. He was terribly curious why spoons before forks, or knives for that matter. But considering the way gossip travelled it was possible that Lobelia hadn’t really been pining for his spoons at all. But there was no question that she’d be quick to get her bags if he offered her to move in.  
  
“Someone like you?” Bilbo asked regardless, still wanting to hear what she would say.  
  
“Yes.” Lobelia nodded. “I would keep it in excellent condition.” She looked very earnest, and it finally made her look her age. Which seemed so terribly terribly young. She wasn't even half of Fíli and Kíli's age. The thought boggled the mind.  
  
“Lobelia, you’re barely of age, why would you even need a place this big? Wait until you’ve a family and then you could find-”  
  
“Why would I need to wait,” Lobelia huffed. “Don’t you think I can do it on my own? You lived here on your own for years after-“ she bit her lip and then reached for her tea cup.  
  
“After my parents had died, yes,” Bilbo agreed. “Even though it’s really much too big for just one Hobbit. Because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the home my father had made for my mother.”  
  
“But you did leave it,” Lobelia protested. “You’ve not been here for years! When you first wrote everyone thought that you were never coming back. And that was _years_ ago!”  
  
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Bilbo shrugged. “And this is still the home my father made for my mother. Lobelia, I-“  
  
“You married a Dwarf. A _King_ ,” Lobelia said, and Bilbo would have been willing to pay to see Thorin’s expression after someone had named him King in such a tone.  
She might have used the same one to name him pauper, as if Kings couldn’t possibly contribute anything to anyone.  
  
“You can’t just leave this place to gather dust and decay," Lobelia finished, looking upset.  
  
“And I have no intention to,” Bilbo said and shook his head. “But I’m not giving this place away. Perhaps not ever. But if I do, it would be to someone who could fill it with all the sounds that’s been missing for years. The sounds of life, and-“  
  
“I could get married,” Lobelia was quick to say and Bilbo sighed and wondered if he’d ever been that young. Was there a certain point when you suddenly felt as if you’d lived all your life with the comfort of knowing that those younger than you were quite ridiculous. Or was that belief actually always present and only got more obvious as there were more and more people younger than you?  
  
“Lobelia…”  
  
“You said-“  
  
“I married a King because I fell in love with him, you should do no less.”  
  
“Love,” she scoffed, and Bilbo felt even older.  
  
“Yes, love,” he said and sighed. “Marry someone you would like to spend your life with. Someone you’d miss for the rest of your days if you never met again. Someone who makes you smile and makes you want to pinch them in equal measures. Though that last bit is my personal take on it,” he added. “Dwarfs are very stubborn. I think our oldest girl would likely be nameless if he’d have had his way. And she'd have a crib in solid gold.” Bilbo snorted and shook his head. “And I miss him and my children so much you can’t even believe it.”  
  
“Are you moving here then?” Lobelia asked sullenly, and Bilbo shrugged.  
  
“Eventually we might. But not for years and years. _But_ -“ he pressed when Lobelia opened her mouth. “Bag End will remain in the hands of a Baggins. I’m sorry, but that’s all I have to say in the matter. I’ll find someone to look over it while I’m away.”  
  
“And you don’t think I could do it,” Lobelia said, her mouth twisting.  
  
“It would hardly be fair, would it?” Bilbo said gently. “It’ll be like asking Dwalin to guard the cookie jar, and believe me, that’s no slight on you, but it's not a good idea.”  
  
“I heard that!” Dwalin yelled.  
  
“Because you’re an eavesdropping snoop!”  
  
-  
  
“I think that went better than I expected,” Bilbo said as he watched Lobelia make her way down the hill.  
  
“Didn’t even need to bring out your letter opener,” Dwalin agreed.  
  
“It’s a sword.”  
  
“That you could use to pick your teeth with.”  
  
“I’d like to see you try.”  
  
Dwalin shrugged and turned to walk inside.  
  
“I don’t actually want to see you try,” Bilbo added and darted after him. "Dwalin, don't you dare."  
  
-  
  
“Is it rude not to go?” Liv asked in a small voice. “It is, isn’t it. I’ll go. I want to go.”  
  
Lev nudged him and Liv started walking along the path once more. “You’d think you were going to be executed not have food and get to stare at a girl you like.”  
  
“I’d never stare,” Liv protested, then his eyes widened. “Oh Mahal, _was_ I staring? I was, wasn’t I?”  
  
“Is it rude to wear ear plugs?” Dwalin muttered.  
  
“Shush,” Bilbo said and patted his arm. “It’s sweet.”  
  
“It’s noisy.”  
  
“Shush then, it’ll help make it less noisy.”  
  
-  
  
The weather was lovely, which was lucky as dinner was served outside. And what a dinner.  
  
“If we both weren’t already married,” Bilbo promised Briar as he took another piece of roast beef. “I’d snap you up in a heartbeat.”  
  
“Funny,” Dwalin said. “Though I heard someone say you should only marry for love earlier today.”  
  
“This is love,” Bilbo swore and looked adoringly down at his plate. “Don’t tell Bombur.”  
  
“I thought your fellow was named Thorin?” Hobson wondered.  
  
“Bombur is our friend,” Bilbo explained. “He cooks for us, quite a lot.”  
  
“See,” Briar said and shook her head. “This King business is not very sensible. No time for weeding or cooking.”  
  
“Leave him alone, love,” Hobson sighed. “He’s clearly made up his mind.”  
  
“You should all come here,” Briar nodded. “Stay a few years. Have a few more little ones, let them all run around with grass beneath their feet.”  
  
“There is grass in the east as well,” Bilbo said, amused. “Admittedly not a lot of it inside the mountain.”  
  
“Shire grass is the best grass,” Briar said, with all the conviction of someone who knew she was right, despite how she'd never gone even as far as Bree in her whole life. “May, honey, you’re not eating anything. Eat.”  
  
Bilbo wasn’t sure if Mrs Gamgee was exceptionally clueless or an evil mastermind, because somehow May and Liv had ended up next to each other.  
  
Liv had cleared his plate, but Bilbo suspected that he’d cleared it even if someone had given him a tuft of dandelions to eat. He was also equally convinced that the young Dwarf had no real idea of what he’d actually eaten. Hopefully there’d not be a quiz.  
  
“I’m _eating_ ,” May complained as she continued not to eat.  
  
Bilbo got a little lost in musing over how Della would be like when she was May’s age - an age that it was quite possible no one still hadn’t told Liv – and didn’t return to the conversation until Andwise, the youngest of the four Gamgee children (even if his twin was only minutes older) piped up.  
  
“Are Dwarfs made of rocks?”  
  
“Andwise,” Briar protested. “That’s a very rude question.”  
  
“I like rocks,” Andwise defended. “Especially the round ones.”  
  
More than one of the Dwarfs perked up. “You like rocks?” Nim asked. “Which kind?”  
  
“The _round_ ones,” Andwise said, with all the exasperation a fifteen year old could muster. “I just told you.”  
  
“Rocks aren’t hairy,” Halfred pointed out, glancing up at Ginn's beard.  
  
“They are if moss is growing on them.”  
  
“Andwise!”  
  
“I like moss too!”  
  
“May I be excused,” May interrupted.  
  
“Yes you may, May,” Briar said and tittered in the manner of someone who had said that many times before and still found it funny.  
  
“Muuuuum.”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Argh, never mind,” May muttered and pushed her chair back. As she stood she glanced down at Liv, who was busy studying his cutlery as if they held the all the answers to all the questions, and possible all the questions too. When he didn’t look up at her, May’s shoulders slumped slightly and she stomped off in a huff.  
  
“I think she wanted you to follow her,” Bilbo her Lev whisper to his brother once the girl had rounded the house and disappeared behind it.

“She did?” Liv hissed, panic shining in his eyes. When he accidentally snapped the handle of the fork he was holding he looked as if he wanted to disappear beneath the table and dig a hole all the way back to Erebor.  
  
Bilbo snorted and reached for another piece of roast.  
  
-  


“What do you say about leaving tomorrow morning and go to Prim and Drogo?” Bilbo asked Dwalin as they all walked back up to Bag End. “If they don’t know that we’re coming it’ll be almost as quick as sending a messenger. And this way we can help out a bit before the wedding.”  
  
Dwalin shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Whatever you think is best.”  
  
“Can I have that in writing?” Bilbo teased.  
  
“Funny.”  
  
“I like to think so.”  
  
“You don’t want to stay longer?” Dwalin asked after a few more moments of silence.  
  
“We’ll come back here before we leave for Erebor,” Bilbo said and shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll need to pack up some things. I talked to young Hamfast tonight, asked if he’d mind keeping an eye on Bag End for me. The hard part was convincing him to accept pay for it.”  
  
“That’s not a yes or no.”  
  
“I love Bag End,” Bilbo said and looked up at the sky, at the stars that were now beginning to make an appearance. “But it’s just a place. I’d rather go to Primula and Drogo, spend some time with them before we have to leave again.”  
  
“Don’t have to leave.”  
  
The look Bilbo gave Dwalin was terribly unimpressed, and the large Dwarf snorted.  
  
“Right, I deserved that one.”  
  
“You did.”  
  
“I got dessert though.”  
  
“Because Briar is _much_ too kind.”  
  
“Fine!” Liv almost shouted, making Bilbo trip over his own feet. “Tell me, how old _is_ she?”


	8. Chapter 7

Feeling kind Bilbo didn’t actually tell Liv how old May was as he felt it would only confuse things. Instead he revealed that it was still one year to go before she came of age.  
  
The result of this was that Liv was entirely useless for the rest of the evening.  
  
There were things to pack before they could leave for Brandy Hall, and it was _not_ helpful to wander around with a glazed expression in your eyes, clutching various things that should not at all be packed (like pillows and forks and books).  
  
But at least he tried to help. Though that in and of itself was a problem as Bilbo had quickly realised that it was not efficient to be a dozen people packing at once, so he'd sent the others off to do whatever they wanted. Liv hadn't quite gotten that part, or perhaps he was just really fond of packing.  
  
“Did I break him?” Bilbo hissed to Dwalin once Liv was safely out of earshot. “I thought he would calm down knowing it’s an entire year to go before-.”  
  
Dwalin snorted. “A year is nothing. If he wants to come back here and court her in a years’ time he’s actually going to need to start planning now. Instead of going around snuggling cushions.”  
  
“You think he will do that?”  
  
“You think he won’t?” Dwalin shook his head. “Question is if that girl will find someone else to fancy in that time.”  
  
“She will try I hope,” Bilbo murmured, looking up when Dwalin made an offended grunt. “Oh I didn’t mean it like that. But you can’t think that it’s wise to start a relationship of that sort without testing to see if there might be others that are just as interesting? Thorin was hardly my first shot at it. He’s just- he’s- I can’t even imagine someone that would be a better fit for me.”  
  
“Don’t let him hear your say that, his head will be big enough not to get through the front gates.” But despite that Dwalin’s tone was jesting, his eyes were rather soft, as was his hand when it patted Bilbo’s shoulder. Well, as soft as Dwalin’s hand ever got.  
  
“My point is that if-“ Liv wandered back into the hallway, holding a chair. “Liv, we won’t need to bring any chairs. Put that back. My point-“ Bilbo continued when Liv had moved away again. “Is that if May finds someone else, then it’s good she did so before any real promises comes into the picture. I guess that’s the point of a long courtship as well.” He nudged Dwalin. “So, as you and Nori are both still unattached, have you almost finished with that first phase of it?”  
  
Immediately Dwalin’s face closed.  
  
“I hope you know you’re being very silly,” Bilbo sighed, but he allowed the subject to drop. “Have you seen- oh drat. Your clothes.”  
  
Dwalin looked down at himself. “I’m _wearing_ my clothes.”  
  
“As we’ve established they’re not suitable for a wedding-”  
  
“ _We_ ,” Dwalin muttered.

“We will need to stop by Ms Barry’s tomorrow morning and see if she can send them on or if someone will need to go back and collect them before the wedding.”  
  
Bilbo sighed as Liv came out from the kitchen holding all the spoons. “Put those back.”

-

  
The morning dawned, or so Bilbo supposed because there were enough clouds around that the sun wasn’t visible. No rain though, not yet anyway.  
  
Miss Barry was prompt to answer once Bilbo knocked on her door. But it did not appear as if she enjoyed mornings very much. Or maybe the gloomy weather had affected her mood.  
  
“It’s not done,” she said, eyes narrowing as she treated Bilbo to a glare, taking care to glare at all the Dwarfs hovering behind Bilbo’s shoulder as well.  
  
“I would not expect it to be,” Bilbo assured. “And that’s of course no slight on Addy’s work, but we’ve had a small change of plans and I was wondering if you could be so kind to send Dwalin’s clothes to Brandy Hall once they’re done? We’re leaving earlier than I originally thought you see. Perhaps I could pay now and an additional fee for the delivery?”  
  
Miss Barry eyed Bilbo’s companions again. “I hope they’re not dressing like that for the wedding.”  
  
“Indeed they’re not,” Bilbo promised. “Dwalin was the only one who _forgot_ a change of proper clothing.”  
  
“Hmrrph. Very well then. But I won’t have you paying before you know if you’re happy with the result. If he’s the time I’ll send Addy with the clothes, otherwise I’ll find someone else. And then you may pay.”  
  
Bilbo hid a smile as it sounded like she was doing him a huge favour by allowing him to pay for something he’d ordered. “That would be very agreeable, thank you, Miss Barry.”  
  
Looking appeased, and slightly less grumpy, Miss Barry nodded. “If you’ve time to wait Addy should be on his way here now. Then you’ll know when to expect the clothing.”  
  
“There’s a few things we need to pick up at the market, perhaps we can-“  
  
“There’s the lad now,” Miss Barry interrupted and nodded down the road where a small figure trotted along at a brisk pace.

“Yes indeed,” Bilbo agreed. He looked to Dwalin who shrugged. “We’ll wait then.”  
  
With the speed Addy was going they did not have to wait long, though he slowed considerable once he realised that the road to Miss Barry’s house was almost blocked entirely by Dwarfs.

And then…  
  
Bilbo looked between Lev; whose face was almost as red as his beard and Addy, who looked like he deeply regretted not brushing his hair before going out his door, fingers frantically trying to tame the dark curls into something orderly; all the while pretending he was not looking at Lev what so ever.

“So, it’s something that runs in that family is it?” Bilbo asked Dwalin.  
  
-  
  
They left with Addy’s assurances that he would _of course_ deliver the clothing himself. And before they left Addy had manged to ask Lev no fewer than three times if he wouldn’t be needing any clothes made, Lev getting redder and redder until Bilbo was afraid he would melt.  
  
“Addy,” Bilbo finally sighed. “Ask him for a dance before you ask him to take off his clothes in front of you.”

Unfortunately his comment only made Addy start to blush too, as well as begin to apologize profusely and of course he’d not meant it like that, he just thought that some new clothes maybe would- not that there was anything wrong with the clothes he was wearing- and then Addy disappeared inside Miss Barry’s house. Possibly never to be seen again.  
  
“Do _not_ ruin my best apprentice,” Miss Berry told Bilbo, folding her arms across her chest. “I will come to Brandy Hall myself if you can’t promise him to be returned promptly. Some of us have work to do.”  
  
“I promise we’ll send him back in the same state we receive him,” Bilbo smiled. “Perhaps with a fuller belly if he will have time to share a meal.”  
  
“Just make sure that a meal is all his belly will be full of,” Miss Barry sniffed with a pointed look at Lev. “I do not wish to start all over again with a new apprentice when this one is so close to being done. Such things can wait until after he’s fully trained.”  
  
It took Lev a few moments to catch her meaning, but when he did it seemed as if the last of the blood in his body squeezed inside his face, and shining like a plump tomato he had to lean against Trinn to avoid falling to the ground.  
  
“Don’t ruin my apprentice she says,” Dwalin muttered as they left, Lev still walking a little unsteadily. “How about not ruining my guards?”  
  
“I guess it’s fortunate that Orcs aren’t good at embarrassing people,” Bilbo mused. “Or things would have ended very badly for the Dwarven kind.”  
  
-  
  
Thankfully the rest of the journey to Brandy Hall was uneventful, and they arrived shortly before dinner. Bilbo fretted a little about showing up, possibly announced, with so many of his own guests. If Lobelia was right and no one had received his last letter then Prim and Drogo, and Prim's mother Mirabella, would indeed not be expecting him much less his friends, but there was nothing to be done about it now.

-  
  
It was Saradoc who opened the door, but before Bilbo could get a word in edgewise his arrival was already being announced.  
  
“GRANDMA! COUSIN BILBO IS HERE!”  
  
“DO NOT SCREAM LIKE THAT! MIND YOUR MANNERS! INVITE HIM IN!”  
  
“HE’S NOT ALONE!”  
  
“HAS HE BROUGHT DWARFS!?” This was a new voice, and if Bilbo wasn’t mistaken it belonged to Merimac, Saradoc’s younger brother.  
  
“STOP SHOUTING!” Mirabella, erm, shouted. “JUST INVITE THEM ALL INSIDE!”  
  
“ARE THEY REALLY DWARFS!?” Possibly-Merimac shouted again. It really had been too long since Bilbo met the lads. Saradoc had grown almost as much as Hamfast.  
  
“Won’t you please come in,” Saradoc said and nodded all proper as can be, though the effect was something ruined the very next moment. “Wow, is that a real axe!?”  
  
“NO WEAPONS INSIDE!”  
  
“Cousin Bilbo!”  
  
“Primula!” Bilbo grinned when his saw Prim appear behind Saradoc. “How lovely to- OH MY!”  
  
“THE NO SHOUTING RULE GOES FOR YOU TO, BILBO BAGGINS!”  
  
“Everyone except Grandma,” Saradoc muttered.  
  
“Prim, I did not know you and Drogo were already expecting!” Bilbo said as he stepped forward and took Primula’s hands. “Congratulations!” He glanced down at her close to bulging stomach. “This is just lovely!”  
  
“Say he who doesn’t need to deal with my aching ankles,” Prim griped. “I already dread the ceremony. I guess this is why folk get married before having little ones.” She pulled him in for a hug and then slapped his shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming!”  
  
“I did!” Bilbo defended. “My letter must have gotten lost.”  
  
“At least you’re here now!” Prim agreed, grinning brightly. “It’s so good to see you! You look well!”  
  
“And you look absolutely radiant,” Bilbo smiled, because his cousin really did. “Is it the wedding, the baby or is Drogo just doing an admirable job in-“ He glanced down at Saradoc. “Job.”  
  
“I know where babies come from,” Saradoc informed him with a narrowed-eyed look.  
  
“I HAVE NOT HEARD THE DOOR CLOSE!”  
  
Prim looked around Bilbo and waved at his companions. A few collected themselves enough to wave back. “Hullo! Won’t you please come in!”  
  
“WITHOUT WEAPONS!”  
  
“Welcome to Brandy Hall,” Bilbo said and grinned helplessly as Merimac came sprinting around the corner, eyes bright and already demanding to meet the Dwarfs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try and complete this now in December, as it's basically a Fix-it at its heart. And it's definitely void of angst, unless you count the "DOES HE/SHE LIKE ME OMG!" variety . Or Bilbo missing his family. But it's all okay in the end of course.


	9. Interlude 2 - Meanwhile in Erebor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, we *have* to check in on the peeps in Erebor  
> Have a few bits and pieces what has been going on.

“I don’t see the point to this,” Thorin grumbled.  
  
“I know that I’m wonderful,” Dís said. “But it wouldn’t hurt the children to have more female influences in their lives.”  
  
“I can take care of my own children.”  
  
“I’m not contesting that,” Dís sighed. “But unless you’ve failed to notice, you're not female. And also something called King.”  
  
Thorin gave his sister an upset look. “I would not allow being King to influence my parenting.”  
  
“Except when there's a need for baby related holidays,” Fíli murmured from where he was lying on the carpet with Kíli and the thrins. When his mother and uncle looked his way he concentrated very hard on shaking a doll over Fennin’s head, making the little girl stretch her arms up to try and grab it.  
  
“There’re many benefits to it.” Dís raised a finger. “One, more female role models. Two-“ Another finger. “When you and Bilbo are busy there’ll still be consistency for the children, and you won’t need to urgently find out who isn’t busy. And three-“ A third finger was waggled in front of Thorin’s nose. “Get someone you can keep on as a governess later on. Then the children will already know her and know to listen to her, and maybe they’ll skip out on classes less often than my two brats did.”  
  
“Hey,” Kíli protested. “We only skipped the boring lessons.”  
  
Dís gave Thorin a meaningful look.  
  
“I still don’t see why you think we need a nanny for the children,” Thorin complained. “And Bilbo is not even here to give his opinion.”  
  
It would be months still before he was back, and Thorin tried not to let that weigh too heavily on him. He’d lived almost two centuries before meeting Bilbo and he’d been doing just _fine_. He could manage six months without him. Of course he could.  
  
That he didn’t _want_ to, that was another story.  
  
“I can hear you brooding,” Dís sighed. “Stop it. And I’ve just told you three reasons why a nanny is a great idea. So nod and tell me you’ll agree to speak with the candidates Nori, Bofur and I will find for you.”  
  
“Bofur and Nori?” Thorin asked.  
  
“Bofur knows everyone and Nori knows too much about everyone.” Dís shrugged. “Seemed like a good combination. Besides, Nori is still sulking. I figured it would be good to give him something to do that did not include missing Dwalin.”  
  
“I do not miss Dwalin,” Thorin’ and Bilbo’s wardrobe declared, quite sulkily.  
  
-  
  
“Will _this_ be the day you return the Arkenstone?” Balin asked the hamster pups sitting on his desk. They all looked innocent, except for Zircon who shook his tiny little head in denial before he caught himself.  
  
Balin’s sigh was heavy and resigned. “Very well. Go on then.”  
  
With happy squeaks the hamsters all rushed forward and climbed into his beard.  
  
-

“Booooo,” Della declared, tiny chubby arms crossed over her tiny chubby chest. Her bottom lip was stuck out in a decidedly displeased fashion. “Dada!”  
  
“He’s not back yet,” Thorin said, voice admirably calm.  
  
Let it be unsaid though if his eyes went wide with panic when Della’s bottom lip started to wobble.  
  
“Dada..!” she hiccupped, and Thorin gathered her up in his arms, letting his little girl hide her face against his neck.  
  
“I know,” Thorin said and swallowed a sigh. “I miss him too, but he is coming back.”  
  
“Now!?” Della demanded and sniffled wetly.  
  
“Not quite yet,” Thorin said and stroked his hand over Della’s unruly curls and down her back. “But he misses you very much and wants to come back to us very, very soon.”  
  
“Dada,” Della said and sniffed again. Pulling back she frowned up at her Papa. “Elves.”

“You do need to stop using that word,” Thorin chided her.  
  
Della’s eyes narrowed. “ _Elves_.”  
  
-

None of the children were allowed to attend the first meeting Thorin had with the prospective nannies. That would come later. If at all.  
  
-  
  
Thorin blinked as he noticed what the young Dwarven lady dressed in blue held in her hand. An umbrella. Inside a mountain. This did not bode well. Thorin immediately suspected that Bofur had picked her simply because he fancied the hat she wore, even though it didn’t have any flaps.  
  
Despite the umbrella the interview went reasonably well until Thorin asked if she had any references from previous employers.

“Oh, your Majesty, I make it a point never to give references. a very old-fashioned idea, to my mind.” The young lady, Márry, shook her head, her tidily braided hair and beard hardly moving at all.  
  
“I would like to have references,” Thorin said firmly. “At least tell me what caused you to leave your previous employers.”  
  
“Did you get sacked?” the dresser asked, and to her credit Márry did not seemed to be very perturbed by talking furniture.  
  
“Sacked? Certainly not. I am never sacked!” She protested, head held high. “I have excellent qualifications. Amongst others there are my cheery disposition and I’m _never_ cross. I can play games of all sorts. I am kind but firm-“  
  
“Why do you carry an umbrella?” Thorin asked, remembering what Bilbo had told him about his cousin Lobelia and her umbrella. Not that you ought to judge a person based on umbrellas, but still.  
  
The young lady looked at him, her face very serious. “You never know when you need an umbrella, your Majesty.”  
  
-

“Tell me a little about yourself,” Thorin said, looking across the table at the blonde Dwarf. Her clothing were a lot plainer than the previous applicant’s, but there was no umbrella. This struck Thorin as a Very Good thing.  
  
“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,” the blonde said thoughtfully, and Bill’s ears perked up at the mention of kittens. “Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens. Brown paper packages tied up with strings. These are a few of my favourite things.”  
  
Or perhaps the absence of an umbrella meant very little in the end.  
  
-  
  
“I don’t want to know what’s wrong with the ones you’ve _not_ allowed me to meet,” Thorin muttered to Bofur as the third candidate left. “She didn’t even knock before entering, and then lied straight to my face and told me that she _did_ knock. And a nanny who was named Nanny by her parents? That did not struck you as odd?”  
  
“She seemed nice,” Bofur defended. “And she had very impressive eyebrows.”  
  
“Eye _brow_ ,” Thorin sighed. “And I don’t care how impressive you find her eyebrow-“  
  
“She had a mighty fine nose too.”  
  
“Or nose, but-“  
  
“And her hat…“  
  
“Bofur,” Thorin said and narrowed his eyes. “If you are looking for people to court you will do so on your own time and not the expense of my children.”  
  
“I would never,” Bofur protested. A moment passed. “But you agree with me on her nose, don’t you?”  
  
-  
  
Taking a break from finding a nanny that he was fairly sure that he did not even want in the first place Thorin spent the rest of the day with his children, and they spent it out in the garden Bilbo so painstakingly had gotten to blossom and bear fruit.  
  
Thorin had taken to spending a fair bit of time there ever since his husband had departed for the Shire. Not only did the children love to crawl around on the grass but it was a very soothing place to spend a few hours in.  
  
The presence of Bilbo in the garden was almost a tangible thing, in everything from the delicate roses to the wooden bench he’d asked Bifur to make, in the narrow pathway of stone leading from one corner to the other, in the green leaves and the blue sky.  
  
Bill and Thorn and their mischief making brood had joined them as well, the cat and hamster curled up in the shadow beneath a large bush as their children played with Thorin’s three youngest.  
  
Della on the other hand refused to stray further than a few inches from Thorin’s side, holding on to two of his fingers with a slightly sticky, very determined grip, and together they walked around the garden, watering everything that seemed in need of it.  
  
Thorin had not entirely understood the need to water plants, wasn’t that was rain was for? But Bilbo used to do it so in his absence Thorin would do it for him.

“Elves!” Della chirped happily and Thorin looked around, somewhat alarmed, before he realised Della meant two butterflies sitting on an orange flower.  
  
“Butterfly,” Thorin corrected.  
  
“Buh fly,” Della nodded and tugged on Thorin’s hand. "Bath?"  
  
"No, we don't need to water butterflies," Thorin said. He paused. "At least I don't think we do."

-  
  
Eventually though Dís nagged him into meeting more potential nannies.  
  
-  
  
Thorin was slightly alarmed at the sheer intensity of the bright smile aimed his way.  
  
“Well aren’t you just _gorgeous_ ,” the brunette cooed, her voice rising in pitch as the sentence progressed.  
  
She looked behind her at the door that had just closed and whistled quietly. “That guard though. Is he married? I didn’t see a ring.”  
  
“Um,” Thorin said.  
  
It was quite possibly the first time he’d seen someone having a more complicated style of braids than Dori while at the same time managing to have a hairstyle that reached even higher than Nori’s three peaks. And how could she even walk with robes that tight? And he was entirely sure that he’d never seen someone with that much cosmetics before. He was impressed that her eyelids still managed to keep themselves open.  
  
“Ach, but I’m being rude,” the lady scolded herself. Impossibly her smile got a little brighter still. “Hi, I’m Frann.” She held out her hand for Thorin to clasp and a little dazedly he did so. “Nice to meet you, your Majesty.” She squeezed his hand and patted it with her free one. “Now about that cute guard…”

-  
  
Telling Dís that he couldn’t decide anything before Bilbo was back anyway Thorin managed to get everyone to drop the topic of a nanny.

At least for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I tag the crossover(s) lol?  
> I don't even know if anyone will understand my references. (In any case, I'm sorrrrry, I could not resist)
> 
> I'm thinking about allowing Frann to stay on as the Nanny, lol,  
> What do you think? I think she would love the kiddies and they her. She's got style, she's got flair! Is that how she'll become... the Nanny? *snickers*
> 
> Okay, I'll stop now. But seriously, do you think a nanny would be a good additional to the household?


	10. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has some sad feels at the end of this chapter. But no worries, Dwalin makes it better. He's awesome that way.

By some miracle there was room for them all around the dinner table.  
  
Well, all right, it was a fairly easily explained miracle. If you had a large family you usually had a large table, meals got fairly awkward if people had to sit on the floor.  
  
Gorbadoc and Mirabella had only two of their children currently living at home, and that was including Primula even though she was about to move to the smial she and Drogo would keep together after their marriage (still in Buckland, but far enough from Brandy Hall that the newlyweds could get some privacy). However with seven children in total, many of which had lived with their parents even after they had partners and children of their own, the decision had been made somewhere along the line to have a _proper_ dinner table.  
  
Proper in this case meaning large enough to now have room for Bilbo and all of his companions, as well as everyone normally living in Brandy Hall.

The only thing that there didn’t seem to be room for was silence, but Bilbo hadn’t expected it to be different.  
  
Lev and Liv both still seemed a bit distracted, and were mostly quiet, but the others gradually loosened up during the course of the meal and not only answered any and all questions the children asked them but also contributed to the ongoing conversations on their own.  
  
Bilbo spent most of his time talking to Prim and Drogo, catching up on everything that had been happening since they last met even though they’d already shared some of it through letters.  
  
Considering that he’d not been aware that they were expecting a little one, and they’d not been aware that he was coming for their wedding, other things might have been lost along the way as well.

And even though they discovered that those things had indeed been the exceptions Bilbo did not at all mind to get to talk about Thorin and their children, as well of their pets, just as he didn't mind getting to hear about Prim's and Drogo's courtship being told to him in person instead over increasingly sappy letters.  
  
“I’ve never heard of a cat and hamster acting like that,” Drogo said and shook his head. “Never mind them having lil’ ones together.”  
  
“But ours do,” Bilbo said and chuckled. “And the children are very fond of them, Della most of all, albeit that could just be because she’s the oldest. Oh, did I ever tell you about the unfortunate incident with the painted rock?”  
  
Primula and Drogo both shook their heads, Prim leaning back against Drogo’s shoulder and Bilbo crushed the small sting of jealousy that prompted. It wouldn’t be long now before he would be going back to Thorin.  
  
“Well, someone left a stone in the shape of a hamster outside our rooms,” Bilbo explained, skipping the part of the explanation that would require him to explain why exactly things were being left outside their door in the first place. “And they’d painted the little thing as a hamster too, rather fantastic work actually, it almost looked alive. Something that turned out to be a problem when Della saw it.”  
  
“She wanted to play with it?” Prim asked.  
  
“She rather believed it was one of ours,” Bilbo said and smiled wryly. “And when she touched it and it was a hard, cool lump instead of a living, breathing, furry critter she thought something had gone horribly wrong.”  
  
Bilbo had been the one bringing the rock into their chambers, because even if it had been a _bit_ like a statue and he thusly needed to be opposed it on sheer principle, it had still been awfully cute.  
  
Thorin had been the one finding their oldest girl crying over it, and Thorin did not handle _any_ form of crying very well, especially not when it was Della.  
  
After a bit of overreacting Thorin did realise that Della wasn’t hurt in anyway, and it was the stone she was clutching that was the root of the problem. Nori was immediately dispatched to find Thorn and all of the pups to show Della that nothing was wrong.  
  
Something easer in theory than in practice.  
  
“So what I walk in on is Thorin growling at our poor cat to cough up the rest of his family, not literally mind you, or Bill would find himself in the dungeons, and meanwhile Della is still crying and clutching the rock to her chest.”

Bilbo snorted. “She did calm down when we had all of them gathered in the room, and we were even able to work a bit on her counting to prove that no one was missing, so I guess all’s well that ends well.”  
  
“Your life is certainly eventful these days, cousin,” Prim said and nudged their feet together.  
  
“Yes, quite so,” Bilbo said, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  
  
Drogo wrapped his arm around Prim’s shoulder and pulled her closer. “I’m glad to hear it. And I hope our sprog will be just as delightful as your brood.”  
  
Prim scoffed. “Have you met me, my dear husband to be? Of course they’ll be delightful.”  
  
“She’s so modest,” Drogo confessed to Bilbo.  
  
“That she is,” Bilbo agreed.  
  
Whatever Prim was about to reply came out as a soft sound of surprise and she pressed her hand to her belly.  
  
Suddenly all the conversations came to an abrupt halt and Bilbo became aware that all of the Dwarfs were looking at his cousin with badly hidden concern.  
  
“Is everything all right?” Jem asked, and Prim blushed a little from the combined attention of eleven concerned Dwarfs – as even Dwalin looked a bit worried.  
  
“The baby moved,” she explained, giving Jem a small smile. “Would you like to feel?”  
  
Now it was Jem’s turn to blush, rosy-red splotches of colour appearing on his cheeks. “I’m sure that wouldn’t be appropriate.”  
  
“That’s not what I asked,” Prim huffed. “I asked if you’d want to feel. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”  
  
Bilbo had to hide a smile as Jem appeared to have a small internal war with himself.  
  
“Could I really?” the Dwarf finally asked, tugging nervously on a silver braid.  
  
“Of course,” Prim said, unknowingly starting a very long process of all the Dwarfs being allowed to press a palm to her belly. Because after Jem moved away; more than a little starry-eyed, Prim caught sight of the envious glances being thrown his way and being a kind soul she asked the others if they’d want to try and get kicked by her baby as well.

Saradoc and Merimac quickly grew disinterested as Dwarfs were considerably less interesting when cooing over their unborn cousin and the two boys asked to be excused from the table, but Bilbo and the others remained seated and watched with bewildered amusement as the large, fairly fearsome-looking Dwarfs lined up to patiently wait their turn to very, very gently touch Prim’s rounded stomach.  
  
For Bilbo the amusement was not particularly bewildered at all, but then again he’d been pregnant and surrounded by Dwarfs twice over already.  
  
“Have you decided on a name yet?” he asked Drogo, and his cousin tore his gaze from Prim grabbing Trinn’s hand and pressing it to her belly after the Dwarf had hesitated just a little too long. Whereas Thorin would have been muttering beneath his breath about someone other than him getting to touch Bilbo's stomach - his husband could be such a idiotic possessive moron - Drogo looked more concerned about Trinn as the girl was wide-eyed enough that the white showed all the way around the brown of her iris.  
  
“We’ve been talking about Lily for a girl and Frodo for a boy,” Drogo replied, glancing back at Trinn to make sure she hadn't fainted.  
  
“I’m not going to break if you touch me,” Prim sighed when Trinn gave her a _particularly_ wild-eyed look as Prim pressed the Dwarf's hand just that bit more firmly against her stomach.  
  
Bilbo chuckled. “Both fine choices.”  
  
“Why do you have different names?” Fraff asked and Bilbo and Drogo both turned to look at him. He'd already had his turn, and was now sitting down on his chair once more.  
  
“Different names…?” Drogo asked.  
  
“For a boy and a girl,” Fraff clarified. “Aren’t both names suitable regardless?”  
  
“Um-“ Drogo looked towards Bilbo who held up his hands to ward off any question.  
  
“I’ve already had this conversation once and I lost. So if you want to argue that it’s necessary to have special names for boys and special names for girls you are on your own.”  
  
“But you can’t name a boy ‘Lily’,” Drogo tried, and Fraff looked confused.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because, because it’s not suitable, is it?”  
  
“Why isn’t it suitable? You do like flowers, don’t you? It’s a flower, isn’t it?” Fraff added to Bilbo.  
  
“Yes, it’s a flower,” Bilbo smiled. “A very pretty one at that. I’m glad you’ve heard of it.”  
  
Fraff puffed up with pride.  
  
“But it’s not a boy’s name,” Drogo said.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because it’s a girl’s name.”  
  
“Begging your pardon, Master Hobbit, but that’s not a very good reason.”  
  
Bilbo hid a snicker in a cough. Certain things were a lot more fun when they happened to other people.  
  
-  
  
Before he went to bed that night Bilbo slipped outside to smoke a pipe of Old Toby. He’d not been outside for very long before a large shadow joined him.  
  
“There’s something I’d like to ask,” Dwalin said, sitting down heavily next to Bilbo on the bench.  
  
“As you don’t usually ask to ask a question I’m now somewhat alarmed,” Bilbo said and shot Dwalin a suspicious look.

“It’s a personal question.”  
  
“Now I’m definitely alarmed.”

When Dwalin huffed Bilbo nudged his shoulder into the Dwarf’s side. “Come on now, we’re friends. You don’t need to be shy.”  
  
“You don’t have any siblings.”  
  
“And that’s not actually a question,” Bilbo said, taking a deep puff on his pipe. “No, no,” he added when Dwalin opened his mouth. “You want to know _why_ I don’t have any siblings, is that right?”  
  
“You've said mother had eleven and your father four,” Dwalin said. “You and Thorin already have four children. Your cousins are expecting their first child and they’re not yet married. Our host have seven children. But you have no brothers or sisters.”  
  
“I do not,” Bilbo agreed.  
  
“Did you use to?” Dwalin asked, now appearing to be back to his normally blunt self.  
  
“No,” Bilbo said. “I’m my parents’ only child. A little unusual to be sure, but it happens sometimes.”  
  
“Did they not… want more? Did they use herbs your people have?”  
  
Bilbo’s smile was a little bitter-sweet. “Mother used to tell me that I was enough trouble to count as five children, I was more than a handful, she said. But I do think they wanted more. It just didn’t happen.”  
  
When Dwalin didn’t say anything Bilbo continued. “I’ve never heard of a family not having children at all, that is, if they’re able to, erm, create one together, so to speak. Two ladies could have some problem with that, unless they get some… help.”  
  
“Help,” Dwalin said flatly.  
  
“Tomatoes won’t grow unless you plant the seed,” Bilbo said and took another puff on his pipe. “But the gardener is the one making sure the sapling grows up well, not the one planting it to begin with. But we’re getting away from the subject I think.”  
  
“I’d say so,” Dwalin snorted. "But trust Hobbits to make everything about plants."  
  
Bilbo sniffed. "Well, as I said. There’s always _one_ child, at least one. But sometimes… sometimes one is all there is.” He shrugged a little. “Sometimes there’s more than a dozen, and sometimes there’s one. No one really knows why, thought there are many, many theories, one crazier than the other. To mention just one; I don’t know why anyone would think eating unripe apples would have something to do with the number of children you have. If sour apples stopped you from having little ones no one would have children as there’s not a child in the Shire that won’t go to bed at least once with a tummy aching from-“  
  
“Bilbo.”  
  
The Hobbit quickly put his pipe between his lips.  
  
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Dwalin said, and a warm hand settled on Bilbo’s back.  
  
“I’m not upset,” Bilbo said quickly. “I’m not.”  
  
Considering that his voice wasn’t entirely steady it wasn’t terribly convincing and Bilbo swallowed. “I’m not,” he added in an even smaller voice. Drat.  
  
But... Another theory as to why some would only have a single child was that the Valar had decided that it _had_ to be that way, otherwise there’d eventually be more Hobbits than would be able to fit into the Shire.  
  
Bilbo had been fifteen or so when he’d first heard it, and that night he’d wandered between the many empty rooms in Bag End wondering if all grown-ups was so bad at understanding simple matters. The Valar should surely be able to tell that there’d be _plenty_ of room for any children that wanted to be born.  
  
Not that Bilbo didn’t have friends, not to mention plenty of cousins, to play with, but he’d not have minded having a brother or sister or two. Or more.  
  
If he had siblings then maybe Belladonna wouldn’t sometimes go to the drawer where she kept a few of Bilbo’s baby clothes and gently rub her thumb over the soft cloth. Maybe she wouldn’t have looked sad when doing it.  
  
Maybe the table in Bag End wouldn't have seemed so large. Wouldn't have seemed like it was waiting for someone.  
  
Maybe he wouldn’t have spent such a long time alone, after his parents had died, before his home had been invaded by Dwarfs.

“I miss Thorin and the children,” Bilbo said, before he was aware that he’d been about to say it.  
  
“Yeah,” Dwalin said as he rubbed his hand in slow circles on Bilbo’s back. “I know.”  
  
And strangely that made it a little better.  
  
"Give that here," Dwalin said as he blatantly stole Bilbo's pipe; having the _gall_ to make a face after the first drag. "Too sweet," he complained, handing the pipe back to Bilbo.  
  
"Get your own then," Bilbo huffed, but he didn't protest when Dwalin stayed with him as he smoked, the Dwarf's hand remaining on his back; big and warm and comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I know plenty of people without siblings who are perfectly fine with it. But in this verse Bilbo wasn't entirely okay with it.
> 
> Either way is a perfectly acceptable way to feel. And all variations there of. And if you're in Belladonna's position it's of course all right to be sad. She and Bungo didn't love Bilbo any less and she never meant for him to see her sad. Bilbo was just very light on his feet even as a kid. 
> 
> In a modernAU they'd likely would have adopted a few more kids, but that was not an option here.
> 
> And as a side note:  
> I've got something of a pet theory: what people want most of all (relating to families) is what they didn't have growing up.  
> For example, Bilbo wants not to be lonely and to have people who aren't his parents understanding and accepting him. That's how he'll be happiest.  
> Thorin wants a large family that he can keep safe and comfortable and which will want for nothing. That's how he'll be happiest.
> 
> And luckily this is possible to combine :)


	11. Chapter 9

Bilbo got his own room for the night, and as it was thus a room without snoring that meant he had a hard time falling asleep. That is to say, he couldn’t, at all.

Dwalin stirred when Bilbo stepped on a creaking floorboard.

“Can I sleep with you?”  
  
It was a testament of Dwalin’s desire to just go back to sleep that he didn’t bother making any stupid jokes. Instead he just grunted and rolled to the side, leaving plenty of space for Bilbo and his blanket.

“You gonna order Thorin to start snoring or?” Dwalin muttered as Bilbo made himself at home, but before Bilbo had time to reply Dwalin’s own snores began once more.  
  
Bilbo rather thought that Thorin wouldn’t need to take up snoring. It would just be enough to fall asleep listening to his (quiet) breathing, or his heartbeat. Or to have the children snoozing away in the background.  
  
Sighing Bilbo inched a little closer to Dwalin just enough that he could feel the warmth of another body next to his. That and the snoring helped, and before Bilbo knew it it was already morning and he better get back to his own room before someone thought he’d been kidnapped. Again. Even if Dwalin would know better he couldn't be sure someone else wouldn't get the wrong idea.  
  
And indeed. Although not exactly what he'd meant.  
  
He ran into Prim coming out of Dwalin’s room and she raised an eyebrow and looked him over.  
  
“So you have two husbands?”  
  
“What?” Bilbo asked, hiding a yawned behind his hand. “No just the-“ Then he realised what she meant.  
  
He and Dwalin had, naturally enough, only acted like friends the night before. But here he was coming out of Dwalin’s room. “We just slept together. I mean-“  
  
Prim snickered. “Is that normal then? For Dwarfs?”  
  
“Only actual sleep happened.” Bilbo yawned again. “And will ever happen. I’ve gotten used to a certain level of noise in the background when I go to sleep. If I don’t have it-“ he shrugged. “And Dwalin is an excellent snorer.”  
  
“And not excellent at other things?” Prim asked innocently.  
  
“Primula,” Bilbo admonished. “I am a married Hobbit.”  
  
“And I’ll be one soon,” she smiled. “But I don’t think that’ll mean I’ll end up in the same bed as your friend there. Excellent snorer or not. So excuse me for my conclusion.”

“Drogo would be surprised if you started sleeping with Dwalin while he was here,” Bilbo agreed, and they both snickered together.

“Well, unless I find someone he likes as well.”  
  
“Now _that_ ,” Bilbo said and shook his head. “That is not really something common for Dwarfs.”  
  
Prim blinked. “I don’t’ follow. Drogo fancying people isn’t normal for Dwarfs?”  
  
“No, I have _a_ husband yes, but just _one_ ,” Bilbo explained. “And Thorin would find it rather strange if I proposed any changes to that.”  
  
“Ooooh.” Prim’s eyes got very round. “Just one? All of them? But that’s not practical at all.”  
  
“I’m not sure if it’s all of them,” Bilbo said. “But it’s certainly most of them.”

He’d not really considered this before, but perhaps this would actually be a problem when it came to courting and such.  
  
Few people were so fortunate that they found more than one person to court at a time, but it wasn’t at all uncommon to go from a pair to a trio. And the ones who managed was considered to be quite fortunate indeed.

Hmm, as with so many other things, time would tell if this would become an issue or not, but perhaps he would make sure to talk this over with Balin before anyone actually got married.  
  
His own marriage… well, it was like he’d told Dwalin. He couldn’t imagine someone being a better fit for himself than Thorin, and since they fit together so perfectly it was a little strange to imagine just where there’d be room for someone else. Still, nothing was impossible. Just… a little implausible.  
  
“Dwarfs are rather possessive,” Bilbo told his cousin. “Which is both good and bad. In love and in other things.”  
  
“You’d think that would mean that they’d be all for having more than one person in their beds and hearts then?” Prim pointed out. “More people to be possessive about, if that’s what gets them going.”  
  
Bilbo blinked. “Actually that’s a very good point.”  
  
“Why are you both just standing around _talking_?” Drogo scurried up to them. “There’s so much to _do_.”  
  
“Sweetie,” Prim said and took his hand. “Calm down and don’t be such a Baggins.”  
  
“Now wait a minute,” Bilbo protested.  
  
“I don’t think that’s-“ Drogo began, but Primula ignored the both of them.  
  
“All I'm saying is that I'm going to get married regardless of how many flower garlands are hanging above me.”

“We’re not doing the garlands yet,” Drogo moaned. “They’ll wilt if we do!”  
  
“I didn't have a big wedding at all,” Bilbo pointed out while ignoring how he'd come early to make sure everything was going all right with _this_ wedding. “It was just Thorin and me and a witness.”  
  
Drogo and Prim both turned to look at him. “But, who married you?” Drogo asked.  
  
“Thorin did,” Bilbo smiled. “Benefits of marrying a King I suppose.”  
  
“Yes I was going to ask about that,” Prim said. “So, Bilbo,  cousin dearest, a _King_?”  
  
“Cousin dearest, a _Drogo_?” Bilbo replied in the exact same tone of voice. “No offence, Drogo.”  
  
“I’ll forgive you if you get dressed and help me with the paper lanterns.” The younger Baggins twisted his hands together. “There’s still a _lot_ of them to build.”  
  
Bilbo grinned. “My dear Drogo, leave that to me.”  
  
-  
  
Or to his Dwarfs, rather.  
  
-  
  
After everyone had been supplied with breakfast and informed that second breakfast would need to be combined with lunch due to time constraints, Bilbo led his Dwarfs over to where the supplies to make lanterns were.  
  
“And then you put this bit in here and you make sure it sticks, and then you attached the handle like this-“ Bilbo frowned at the handle when it didn’t want to behave straight away. “Like _this_ , yes there we go. And then you’ve a lantern.” He held up the finished result. “Do you think you can help to make these?”  
  
“Should they only be square or can we make other kinds as well?” Fraff asked as he looked consideringly at the supplies.  
  
“Feel free to do as you please as long as they can be hung from a cord or from a tree,” Bilbo told him.  
  
Which wasn’t wrong exactly, but perhaps he should have phrased it differently as it turned into something of a competition.  
  
-  
  
“You made a _badger_ ,” Bilbo said to Nim when he came back to check on them some time later.  
  
“Is there something wrong with badgers?” Nim asked worriedly. “Do they bring bad luck at weddings? I can do something else.”  
  
“I made a pony,” Breben said, holding said pony lantern up. “Is that all right?”  
  
Dwalin had made a red fox with green eyes and three tails and Bilbo made sure not to make any comments on any likeness with a certain Spy Master.  
  
-  
  
Drogo was a little… surprised at the variety, but didn’t really mind as long as they’d not caught on fire when they got a candle inside.  
  
Something Liv’ and Lev’s lanterns turned out to have a problem with, so they were banished to go and peel carrots instead, as carrots were considerably less flammable.  
  
Not wanting them to feel left-out Bilbo joined them, taking the opportunity to give them a few tips on how to actually court Hobbits.  
  
“A very important rule is to not spend a few months huffing and glaring at them,” Bilbo said and shook his head. “But if you do, expect them to be somewhat confused when you suddenly begin to pay a lot of attention to them. Hugs are nice though. But asking first is polite. And not yelling just before the hug should be mandatory.”  
  
“Um,” Liv raised his hand. “What about gifts?”  
  
“Ah,” Bilbo said, giving the young Dwarf a small smile. “Promising them gold and gems might seem like a fine thing, but it will only leave the Hobbit confused.”  
  
“Confused?” Lev asked, looking rather confused himself.  
  
“Hobbits do not really understand gems.”  
  
“But, they’re gemstones,” Liv said. “What is there to understand? Or not understand.”  
  
“They hold very little value to us. You know of the mithril shirt Thorin gave me?”  
  
And that Bilbo had promised to wear _every_ day that he was away, even when he’d arrived to the Shire. And Bilbo did. Albeit only for a few minutes before going to bed, but what Thorin didn't know couldn't make that vein on his forehead throb in a rather worrying manner.  
  
Lev and Liv nodded.  
  
“It’s a rather costly piece of armour-“ Bilbo said.  
  
“It’s _priceless_ ,” Lev corrected and Bilbo smiled at him.  
  
“Be that as it may, if I had to choose between it and this-“ he touched the forget-me-not-pin Thorin had made for him. “- I'd pick this one here without question.”  
  
“Because it’s a flower?” Liv asked, heavy frown on his brow, fingers clenching and unclenching nervously around the carrot he was holding. Perhaps BIlbo should have made clear there was not to be a test afterwards.  
  
“Because Thorin made it for me, with his own hands. And he made it as a symbol of us and our children.” Bilbo let out a small chuckle. “But it doesn’t hurt that it’s a flower no, or that he got the meaning of the flower right as well. Tell you what, if you don’t remember anything else, when it doubt you can always offer flowers or food. Just make sure neither of them is poisonous. Oh, and no glaring.”  
  
A thought occurred to Bilbo. “But please, you shouldn’t offer an entire field’s worth of flowers, or an entire bakery just because you wanted to offer a pastry. Moderation is also important. You don’t even have to give things to start with. Going for a walk in the garden, the flower garden that is, vegetable gardens aren’t nearly as romantic, that is also wonderful.”  
  
Bilbo sighed a little. The carrot he was holding was very sadly a very poor substitute for Thorin’s hand. It was neither big nor warm nor capable of giving his a gently squeeze as they walked together in the sunshine. He was pretty sure that Della had been made on such a walk. After the walking part had rather… ceased, of course.  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Bilbo said. “Yes. If you are walking, or doing something else, and they try to kiss you, or… try other things before you’re ready for it, the kiss – or the other things - just say thanks but no thanks not yet. Or at all. Depending on what you like.”  
  
Liv and Lev now looked a bit wary.  
  
“ _Other_ _things_?” Lev asked carefully.  
  
“Well, you know,” Bilbo said and squirmed a little. “Putting their hands on your, um, carrot.” He waved the carrot he was holding, as if that would help explain it. “Though that’s rather forward for just a walk in the gardens. Unless it’s private gardens of course.”  
  
Dís could just blame herself for that time she’d- but that was not important at the moment.  
  
“Maybe you can talk more with Dwalin about this?” Bilbo asked hopefully, and Liv and Lev nodded, their eyes just a little bit too big.  
  
-  
  
“ _Carrots_?” Dwalin asked that evening after dinner as they were outside smoking. “Bilbo, don’t bring vegetables into things. You’ll just confuse them.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo scoffed. “But since they might actually own hammers or axe handles or whatever it is that you’d prefer me to use instead, I think that would be even more confusing. And you’re also already using vegetables when you talk. In a way.”  
  
“And what is that?” Dwalin asked, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
“Seed,” Bilbo said triumphantly. “That’s-“  
  
“Are you planting something,” Merimac asked, and Bilbo almost fell off the bench.  
  
“Yes,” he hurried to explain, turning to looking at the young lad who had appeared out of nowhere behind the bench. Or just from inside the smial. That was also a possibility. “Of course we are planting something. Because that’s all seed is for. Most assuredly.”  
  
“You can eat it too,” the little boy said and now it was Dwalin who almost fell off the bench as he choked on his pipe. “I like pumpkin ones.”


	12. Chapter 10

The next day turned out to be somewhat eventful even though it was only the day before the wedding. Or, well, perhaps that was a good reason to have an eventful day. Right.

Anyway, in theory there should have been no problem with having Dwarfs weave flower garlands. Bilbo knew that they were capable of things a great deal more intricate things than garlands. 

Thorin's fingers might be large and thick, but they would still create annoyingly small braids if Bilbo fell asleep with his head in Thorin's lap.

And of course Thorin almost always had equally annoying small beads on his person to make sure that the braids did not unravel as they otherwise would in Bilbo's slightly too soft hair.

Ah, yes. Hair. That was another point he had to include on his list of courting relevant things. Do not despair if the braids you make in Hobbit hair do not last. It is not because the Hobbit removes them, but simply because you've not tied them off properly, so stop sulking.

But he was forgetting the current subject, _garlands_. Yes, in theory it should have been a fine idea to have his Dwarfs make the garlands, and just the garlands, mind.  
  
The picking and preparation of the flowers was best left to someone who, for example, would not include roots, just to be safe.

In reality... well, there were no roots, but somehow dandelions managed to sneak into almost all the garlands, courtesy of Saradoc and Merimac, and none of the Dwarfs knew that the yellow weeds were not actually flowers, as such.

The dandelions would have been left in the garlands had it not been for the small fact that they'd not been left to stand in water the night before, which meant that they would wilt long before anything else. And droopy dandelions was just a little too sad to have on a wedding.

"It's not your fault," Bilbo comforted Breben who looked particularly droopy himself as he worked the dandelions out of the rest of the carefully constructed garland. "Dandelions just aren't very good for garlands, well, not the ones you wish to have last for some time. The stems are too hollow you see. They won’t soak up the water properly."

"Yes, Your Highness," Breben sighed, and Bilbo didn't have the heart to correct him about the title, instead just patting him on the shoulder before going to help Edda.

-

Lev was _entirely_ useless the whole morning (even though garlands weren't flammable) as he kept looking down the road, very likely wondering when a certain apprentice would show up with Dwalin's clothes and thus ended up weaving part of his beard into the garlands. Over and over again.

However when Addy _did_ arrive Lev was suddenly nowhere to be found, meaning it was the poor Hobbit lad’s turn to droop like a poorly watered dandelion the whole time while he waited for Dwalin to try on the clothes. He drooped even more when the clothes turned out to fit exceptionally well as that meant that he didn't need to stay and make any adjustments. 

"Excellent work, Addy," Bilbo said, trying to cheer him up. "You must tell Miss Barry I said so."  
  
"Yes, Master Baggins."

"Bilbo. And you need to stay for lunch."  
  
"Yes, Master Baggins."

Bilbo sighed. "And I suppose you can't stay for the wedding?"  
  
"Mistress Barry needs me back tomorrow," Addy said and drooped further. If his curls hadn’t been dark then he’d looked a little too much like a dandelion gone into seed for comfort.

When Lev still hadn't return at lunchtime Bilbo started to get a little worried.

"Dwalin, should we go looking for him? What if something has happened?"

"Does Liv seem worried?"

"No, but-"  
  
"Then the lad's fine."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Bilbo," Dwalin lowered his voice. "I know it might not  _seem_ that way, but all the guards I picked for this journey are very skilled, very capable, and very lethal if necessary. Let’s say he’s been attacked by a cow. His brain won't be  _that_ addled by a pretty face. He’ll still know how to defend himself. Thorin survived our quest did he not?"  
  
"Yes, but-" Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "I'm not  _pretty_."

"Didn't say that you are."  
  
"It was  _implied_."

"You hear what you want to hear, you mean."

Bilbo huffed. "And I supposed you and Nori survived too."  
  
Now it was Dwalin's eyes' turn to narrow.

"Hear what you want to hear," Bilbo said and sniffed. Then he looked to where Addy was sitting and listlessly poking at his food and sighed. "Children..."

"More than twice your age," Dwalin mumbled, chomping down on some asparagus as if it'd done him personal grievance. 

"Don't talk with food in your mouth."  
  
Dwalin swallowed. "And I'm more than _three_ times your age."  
  
"Not if we're talking about maturity," Bilbo sniffed, and very maturely refused to stick his tongue out.

That's about when a bouquet of flowers walked in holding Lev. Yes indeed, because that was what it looked like as the bouquet was almost large enough that Lev wasn’t visible.

"Oh dear," Bilbo said, feeling somewhat guilty about the state of the nearby fields. First the flowers for the wedding and now this.

When the bouquet noticed that they weren't done eating it apologised and walked out again, with very a longing look at Addy, even though the lad had frozen with his mouth open and a partially chewed piece of bread still in it.  
  
Not the most picturesque way to present himself, but ah, young love.

Mirabella banged the blunt end of her knife against the table. "What on Arda just happened?"

-  
  


Bilbo couldn't accuse Lev of not acting with moderation, because he had only taken _one_ out of every single flower that he found, which was why it had taken him so bloody long to construct the bouquet in the first place.

He had forgotten the bit about making sure nothing was poisonous though, which was why he ended up with a bit of irritated skin on the outside of his hand, and also why he acquired the conviction that he'd almost murdered Addy on accident (regardless of how many times Bilbo told him that it wasn't  _that_ poisonous, unless Addy for some reason would have eaten the flower in question).

Still, the end result wasn't that bad as Addy was thrilled with the flowers, even the Wolf’s Bane, and also very happy to hold Lev's hand and look very sympathetic as he cooed over the _terrible_ injury.

Lev mostly kept apologising for the accidental assassination attempt, but at least they were talking _at_ each other. Only needing to work their way up to talking _to_ each other and they'd be married in no time.

After things had been sorted out Addy left, determinedly clinging to the overly large bouquet (sans Wolf’s Bane) and he left only after  _daringly_ having pressed a kiss to Lev's whiskery cheek.  
  
Which immediately turned red, but that was all right since it then matched the rest of the Dwarf which turn as red as the red Gerbera he’d found.

Needless to say that Lev was walking on clouds for the rest of the day, and Liv's pining switched into something very tragic indeed (and also quite noisy) as he kept wailing about how he couldn't give the object of his affection any flowers, and if he _could_ and May had tried to kiss him as thanks, then he would need to stoically refuse until she came of age and-

Bilbo shook his head and kindly did not point out that Liv hadn't even exchanged a single sentence with the girl.

But it made him wonder. If he'd met Thorin when they both were younger, ignoring how it wasn’t really possible for them to have ever met during both of their youths, would they have acted in the same silly way?

He asked Dwalin since Dwalin had actually known Thorin back then, but the reply he got wasn't very helpful.

"You're plenty silly now."

"We're not silly."  
  
"You're a little less silly now compared to when we were on the road to Erebor, I'll give you that."

"We weren't silly either. Thorin was a little... unclear, but I'd not say that he was silly."

Dwalin snorted. "After the barrels, when the lot of us was trying to remember how to walk without throwing up-"  
  
"Thank you for managing to free us from the inescapable Elven dungeons, Bilbo," Bilbo told himself and nodded. "You're quite welcome, Bilbo."

"I was trying to help Ori out of the water, poor thing." Dwalin shook his head. "Couldn't get his legs straight beneath him, kept falling over. And I didn't want to carry him as my own legs weren't too steady either."

"I'm waiting for the part in the story that's about me and Thorin," Bilbo said.

"I'm getting there. So, while we're lugging ourselves onto dry land Thorin is flitting about hollering your name loud enough to wake the dead. Literally checking beneath rocks smaller than my fist just to see if you might be hiding there."

"Yes, but-"  
  
"And he shouts louder and louder, and then there you come down the stream, arse over tits in a barrel-"

"Now wait a-"  
  
"And he fishes you out, and you sneeze him in the face and then-"  
  
"Thank you, I quite remember what happened after that."

"You actually throw up on his feet.” 

"I said  _thank you._ "  
  
“And he thinks you’re dying or something. Which even after Óin says you’re not doesn’t really help as you keep sneezing even though you’ve stopped it with the throwing up. And then-“  
  
“Dwalin…” Bilbo whined, and a bushy eyebrow was raised.  
  
“And as for you, it would have been a much better, calmer journey for the rest of us if you’d just told Thorin you fancy him instead of ‘accidentally’ always having your bed roll next to his and ‘accidentally’ rolling over in your sleep until you were-“  
  
“Now this sounds interesting,” Mirabella said, and both Bilbo and Dwalin jumped a little. “Go on.”  
  
“Um,” Dwalin said, thankfully not as interested to embarrass Bilbo in front of his aunt as he was interested in embarrassing him in general.  
  
“Did he trip and fall and end up in Thorin’s lap?” Mirabella waggled her eyebrows. “Worked just fine for Gorbadoc. Though I don’t think he meant to end up with his face between my-“  
  
“Suddenly I’m deaf,” Bilbo said, covering his ears. “How strange.”

-

As the wedding was just around the corner more of the guests kept showing up, and while most of them did a double take at the sight of Bilbo's companions the Dwarfs were warmly welcomed as soon as everyone figured out that they'd volunteer to watch any and all children attending. 

Dwalin made a few despairing noises about his finest guards being employed as babysitters, but since he made them with one of Bilbo's youngest cousins sitting on his knee, gumming thoughtfully at  his beard, it was not very effective. 

Bilbo kept his eyes open for more Dwarfs or Hobbit making moon-eyes at each other but if it happened he didn't see any of it. He did see Esmeralda Took and Saradoc giggling at each other in a corner, curled together with their heads almost touching, and whilst none of them was of age just yet they were at least equally not of age, so they’d sort themselves out.

"Bilbo could we talk to you?”

Bilbo turned to find Prim and Drogo standing hand in hand.  
  
“Of course,” he smiled. “Can I help with anything else?”  
  
“Well-“ they exchanged a look. “What we wanted to ask is something like that,” Prim said and Drogo nodded.  
  
“A favour.”

“Oh?” Bilbo tilted his head. “Well, go right ahead then.”  
  
“We were wondering if-“  
  
“ _Cousin Fortinbras is here_!” someone shouted and that seemed to be code for all the Dwarfs (except Dwalin) to drop everything they were doing (unless they were watching children in which case they gently put the child down instead of dropping them) and line up in front of the smial, where indeed Fortinbras and Lalia and Ferumbras were being greeted.

As one the Dwarfs bowed.

“What are you doing?” a somewhat confused Fortinbras asked, scratching his head.

"Are you not the Thain?" Jem asked. “The same Thain who send His Highness the herbs he asked for and answered all the questions from our healers?”

"Well, yes?" Fortinbras agreed, and all the Dwarfs bowed again.

Spotting Bilbo, Fortinbras looked imploringly at him. “What _are_ they doing.”  
  
Bilbo hid a snicker in a cough. “It’s called ‘bowing’ dear cousin. Just be glad as long as there are no statues being crafted in your honour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah apparently this story just keeps going.


	13. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you realised how incredibly long this story is? D:  
> Compared to the others in the series it’s so huge and I’m just… _how_?

Bilbo ended up having to tell Jem that no, there shouldn’t be any statues made. Not even ones made out of wood, because while that _would_ be _more_ acceptable it was still a statue and thus not acceptable. No statues. At all.  
  
“Bilbo,” Fortinbras said after that explanation had concluded. “May I speak with you? Alone?”        
  
“They’re not really going to make any statues,” Bilbo promised. “No need to worry.”  
  
“I- that’s not what I wanted to speak about.”  
  
“Oh, is it about your letter?” When Fortinbras confirmed that it was indeed about the letter Bilbo looked around for Dwalin and found him pretending not to be moping beneath a tree.  
  
If he and Nori didn’t get to together fairly soon after they returned to Erebor something _had_ to be done.  
  
Making sure that Dwalin had noticed where he was going Bilbo led Fortinbras into the smial; best keep the believed kidnapping attempts down to just one on this trip, especially when family was involved.  
  
“Right,” Fortinbras said after they’d sat down in Mirabella’s study. “Why is there a dozen Dwarfs with you?”  
  
“They’re only eleven,” Bilbo protested. “And this isn’t about the letter then?”

“It is,” Fortinbras said firmly. “Please answer the question. Why is there a dozen Dwarfs-“  
  
“They’re eleven,” Bilbo said a little petulantly.  
  
“Bilbo…”  
  
“You are not that much older than me, Fortinbras,” Bilbo said. “No need to sound like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders just because you’re Thain now.”  
  
“You’re not answering the question.”  
  
Bilbo snorted. “Well, to sum it up it’s because elven was deemed a suitable compromise between a few and every guard in the mountain.”  
  
“And what is the purpose of them?” Fortinbras put his hand on Bilbo’s arm. “Cousin, you can speak freely with me.”  
  
“Purpose? Well, making sure I return to Erebor in one piece is what I suppose Thorin has commanded them to do. Making a general nuisance of themselves I think they decided on, on their own.”  
  
“Doesn't your husband trust you to return on your own?”  
  
“You’d think he would after I’d saved everyone half a dozen times,” Bilbo muttered. “Really though, it’s a long way to Erebor. And while there’re less Orcs around now compared to the last time I made the trip I’d be a bit silly not to accept- Wait.”  
  
Bilbo blinked as he ran Fortinbras’ words over again in his mind. “Wait, did you mean that Thorin wouldn’t trust me to _want_ to come back if I’d gone here on my own?”  
  
It was perhaps a little unfair on Fortinbras, but Bilbo was so incredibly tired of people believing that he’d no want to go back. His _family_ was there. He’d- Bilbo’s eyes widened.  
  
“Oh, no, and you did _not_ just imply that you’d think Thorin would _force_ me back to Erebor if I didn’t want to go? Which I _do_ , I cannot emphasis this enough. My _children_ are there, my-“  
  
“So why did you feel the need to check with the large one first, before we went inside?”  
  
“Dwalin?”  
  
“The one that did not bow before.”

“Oh he usually doesn’t bow, not even to Thorin, it’s not-“ Bilbo shook his head. “It’s not relevant, that’s what. And I wanted him to know where I went because he’s already thought I’ve been kidnapped once on this trip. That’s quite enough.” He took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. The reason why you asked me to come all the way here, leave my family, it was because you wanted to be sure I wasn't being held against my will in Erebor?”  
  
When Fortinbras nodded, looking at least a little sheepish Bilbo heaved a sigh. “Well, I can't decide if that's thoughtful or not, but I think I’m quite upset with you either way.”  
  
“To be fair it wasn’t my _only_ reason,” Fortinbras said. “But it was an important one. Bilbo, you must understand it’s not at all like you to go running off with a bunch of Dwarfs, and then go as far as marry one of them? A _King_ no less. We’ve been worried about you.”  
  
“My letters should have made it clear that-“

“We did not know if they were forcing you to wri-“

“I take back everything I’ve ever said about Dwarfs being the suspicious ones,” Bilbo said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Really? Really, Fortinbras? This is amongst the stupidest things I’ve ever heard.”  
  
“We needed to be sure.” It was now Fortinbras turn to be petulant. "We do not know their ways. And aunt Belladonna would have tugged my ear off if I let something happen to you."  
  
Bilbo shook his head and took a deep breath. “So what’s this other reason then? Wanting to be sure I’m not normally being chained to a bed and sent on a recruitment mission-“  
  
“Don’t be crass,” Fortinbras sniffed. “What I’m talking about is of course Primula and Drogo wanting you to be the one taking care of their child should anything happen to them. I needed to know if you’d-“  
  
“Wait, no, what?” Bilbo asked.  
  
“Oh,” Fortinbras said after noticing the blank look on Bilbo’s face. “They’ve not asked yet?”

-  
  
“Me?” Bilbo asked, sitting on the grass across from Prim and Drogo. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes,” Prim said, smiling at Drogo before turning back to Bilbo. “We are.”  
  
“Even though-“ Bilbo hesitated. “Or would you- if anything _was_ to happen… would you want me to move back to the Shire?”  
  
“Ah, you see, there was something else we wanted to ask you,” Drogo said, squeezing Prim’s hand. “We were going to ask, well, we’re asking _now_ , if there was a way for us to come and live in Erebor as well?”  
  
“Not right _now_ ,” Prim added when Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “I’m not going half-way around the world while I’m pregnant or with a little one. But perhaps once Frodo-Lily is a bit older. Assuming their siblings aren't going to want to come out in a hurry.”  
  
“I thought we agreed that Lily-Frodo sounded better,” Drogo said.  
  
“I changed my mind, Frodo-Lily sounds like a really pretty flower, and my baby is going to be the prettiest.”  
  
“You’d _really_ want to move to Erebor?”  
  
“If we don’t like it we’ll call it a long visit and then we’ll go back,” Prim shrugged. “But you’ve painted such a pretty picture with your letters.”  
  
“And _Rivendell_ ,” Drogo said with a dreamy voice. “We’d get to see Rivendell on the way there.”  
  
“Sounds like you might lose your future husband to the Elves,” Bilbo whispered, quite loudly, to Prim.  
  
“I’ll pull their hair if they get handsy without asking,” Prim shrugged.

“ _Elves_!” Drogo argued and Bilbo was abruptly incredibly home-sick.

-  
  
After mumbling his excuses to his cousins he ended up in the party tree. He wasn’t sure why exactly as it didn’t really remind him of Della or Thorin or the triplets and definitely not of Erebor as it was quite a stretch to call Erebor green and breezy, but up on a branch in the tree was where Bilbo found himself.

It was at least nice and quiet, at least until one or more of his Dwarfs discovered that he was missing and then things got a _tad_ more noisy.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
“Bilbo!”  
  
“ _Bilbo_!?”  
  
“But it was all right to let _Lev_ go off on his own,” Bilbo muttered. “And pick poisonous flowers. But Eru forbid I sit in a tree for a few moments."  
  
“BILBO?”  
  
“I’m up here!” Bilbo called when he saw Jem pass by below. Anything to stop the shouting.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
“Up usually means that you need to _look_ up,” Bilbo sighed to himself in the same instance as Jem did just that.  
  
“Bilbo?”  
  
Bilbo was really getting tired of his name. Perhaps he could borrow Frodo-Lily for a while, it was quite sweet.  
  
But more than anything he wanted to hear Della calling him ‘Dada’ or to hear Thorin’s lovely rumble of a voice calling him just about anything. Even Bilbo would be perfectly fine as long as Bilbo was allowed to rest his head on Thorin’s chest so he could _feel_ him talk as much as hear it.

“Why are you up there?” Jem asked and Bilbo sighed.  
  
“I’m not entirely sure. Would you please go and tell everyone not to worry?”  
  
He should have known it wouldn’t work on Dwalin.  
  
“Come down from the bloody tree,” Dwalin ordered, standing below on the ground with his hands on his hips.  
  
To be fair, Dwalin should have known _that_ wouldn’t work.  
  
“No thank you,” Bilbo said. “I’m quite comfortable where I am. That was not an invitation!” he added when Dwalin huffed and started to climb. “You’ll fall and break your neck and it’ll be horribly embarrassing as there aren’t even any Orcs around.”  
  
“And if you fall and break yours Thorin will break mine,” Dwalin muttered.  
  
“He will not,” Bilbo protested. “And I’ll have you know I’ve been climbing trees since shortly after I could walk.” Somewhat of an exaggeration but still. “You saw me climb that stupid tree in Mirkwood. It was even a little slimy!”  
  
“And having the spiders come and make cocoons of us was almost a relief,” Dwalin declared as he pulled himself up to sit on the same branch that held Bilbo. “Thorin was about to drive me insane. Probably how the spiders found us in the first place. He was noisy enough you’d think we’d sent you to fight Azog in single combat instead of climbing a tree.”

Getting himself settled Dwalin looked around. “So what’s the point of this?”  
  
“I miss Thorin and the children,” Bilbo said quietly.  
  
“And I repeat, what’s the point of this?” Despite his words Dwalin inched closer, enough that their arms brushed. “If you think they’ve ended up in the tree I’m going to have to ask if you’ve eaten any strange mushrooms today.”  
  
“I just needed to be alone for a while.”  
  
“We’ll be alone together then,” Dwalin shrugged.  
  
“I’m quite sure that’s not how it works.”  
  
“Should we join you?” Fraff called from below. All other Dwarfs had gathered around the base of the tree, looking rather worried.  
  
“Please don’t!” Bilbo called back.

“Can you do this again tomorrow?” Mirabella asked, coming to stand beside Trinn. “Then we can just pass you all the lanterns and you can sort everything out.”  
  
-  
  
“I’m sorry for just disappearing on you before,” Bilbo apologised to Prim and Drogo after he’d found them in the kitchen. “I just- needed a moment.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Drogo promised. “We- if you don’t want to that’s-“  
  
“Oh but I do,” Bilbo rushed to explained. “It’s an honour that you’d ask me, and that you’re thinking about coming to-“  
  
“Not so loud,” Prim warned him. “We’ve not told mum and dad yet.”

“Ah,” Bilbo winced. “Sorry. But still, I’m so very pleased. However I do have one condition.”  
  
Prim and Drogo glanced at each other.  
  
“What’s that then?” Drogo asked.  
  
“Will you considering moving into Bag End?”  
  
Prim’s eyes widened. “Oh but-“  
  
“No, no, _think_ about it,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. “You’d be doing me a favour. I don’t want it to just be empty for however long it’ll take me to convince Thorin that our children are old enough to travel. And even then we’re not going to move here. You could even live there just part of the time? Think of it as a holiday home."  
  
“We’ll think about it,” Prim promised after she’d had a short silent conversation with Drogo. “It’s very generous of you, Bilbo.”  
  
“Not really,” Bilbo said and shrugged one shoulder. “You’re trusting me with your child. Compared to that Bag End is nothing.”

-

On the morning of the wedding Bilbo woke up early and poked at Dwalin’s arm until he moved away from the blankets keeping Bilbo trapped.  
  
“Ermgh?” Dwalin asked and Bilbo shushed him and tucked him back in.  
  
“Go back to sleep.”  
  
“Hmmmrm,” Dwalin agreed and started to snore again.  
  
The rest of the day passed by in somewhat of a blur as there were so many things still needing to be arranged and before Bilbo knew it evening had begun to creep closer and everything was ready for the wedding.  
  
He cried as Prim and Drogo kissed, but that was quite all right because he wasn’t alone, not to mention that on each side of himself he had five bawling Dwarfs and even Dwalin looked a bit misty eyed.  
  
It was just such a beautiful ceremony with paper lanterns shining like stars from all around; albeit somewhat oddly shaped stars, and Prim in a lovely yellow dress and Drogo looking very handsome in a green vest and white shirt and very stylish trousers. Even sniffling into his handkerchief Bilbo made a mental note to ask who had made them.  
  
Dwalin also cleaned up rather well and during the following party Bilbo caught several Hobbits giving him everything from interested look to outright offers to find a nice and quiet corner together.  
  
“You’re the only one wearing something close to Hobbit clothing,” Bilbo explained when Dwalin sought him out, wanting to know why none of the others had to suffer through this. “I expect people find that rather charming. And you're obviously old-"  
  
Dwalin gave him a look.

"I was going to say, old _enough_ to likely have tumbled in the bushes with someone before," Bilbo sighed. "Besides, you’re not the only one. Renn and Nim have been dancing most of the afternoon. If they don’t get to rest soon I’ll need to claim I need them for guarding duties or something so they’ll get a chance to sit down.”  
  
Still muttering beneath his breath Dwalin proceeded to steal Bilbo’s plate.  
  
“Get your own,” Bilbo protested. “There’s plenty to eat."  
  
“I’m going to go hide in the tree,” Dwalin grumbled as he walked off with the plate with all of Bilbo's favourites on it.  
  
“You can’t do that there’re lanterns in it now! You’ll set something on fire. Oh bother,” Bilbo said, hurrying after him. "And give me back my plate!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. I've said this before. But now I think that there's only two chapters to go. Please collect any stray plot bunny that you find and get them far away from me.


	14. Chapter 12

Just like the strange energy which had infused Bilbo as they’d gotten closer to the Shire there was something similar taking over him on the morning after Prim’ and Drogo’s wedding.

In a way it was exactly the same feeling, but instead of calling home to the Shire it was now calling him home to Erebor.  
  
West had been replaced by East, green grass had been replaced by a longing for grey stone, and even before the sun was leisurely rising in the sky Bilbo had already dressed and disappeared into the kitchen. By the time anyone else bothered getting up there was enough food to feed a small army, which; considering the amount of people who had stayed after the wedding, was a good thing indeed.

Before going to bed the night before Bilbo had counted all his ducklings, well, Dwarfs, just to make sure no one had been kidnapped by a mischievous Took, so it was a little worrying to find Liv missing at the breakfast table.  
  
“He went for a walk,” Lev said as he delved into the mountain of pancakes he’d collected. “Hesh nervoush ‘bout going back toh Hobbithon.”  
  
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Bilbo said absently.  
  
Lev swallowed. “’m sorry.”  
  
“And you’re not nervous?”  
  
A dreamy look crept over Lev’s face. “Why would I be.”  
  
“Right,” Bilbo said. “Should I go look for your brother?”  
  
“I’ll do it,” Dwalin said. “Boy shouldn’t go wandering off like this anyway. It’s not safe. But after breakfast.”  
  
“Ah, so the overhanging threat of attack from a rhododendron is not that dire after all?”  
  
“By a what now?” Trinn asked.  
  
“A plant, dear,” Bilbo said and patted her hand. “Not to worry.”  
  
“Why are you all up so damned early for?” Mirabella asked blearily as she wandered into the kitchen dressed only in her night gown. “Didn’t you have the decency to go to bed entirely too late like the rest of us?”  
  
“I’m sorry Aunt Mirabella,” Bilbo said. “I’m just a little.. antsy.”  
  
“Did you sit in an anthill again?” Gorbadoc asked as he yawned his way into the kitchen, also dressed only in his night clothes.  
  
“Again?” Dwalin asked, giving Bilbo an entirely too interested look.  
  
“I’m not sure what sort of story you’re expecting but you won’t get it,” Bilbo said and took a long sip of his tea.  
  
-  
  
Bilbo couldn’t leave Brandy Hall without saying goodbye to Prim and Drogo and little Frodo-Lily, and naturally the newlyweds were not in a hurry to get out of bed.

What this meant was that Fortinbras had plenty of time to try and convince Bilbo to stop by at the Great Smials before he left the Shire, something that Bilbo had no intention at all to agree to, but it was something of a challenge to keep finding new ways of saying no to his cousin.  
  
Yes, indeed, staying a few days more wouldn’t really matter much considering that it would take a few _months_ to get back to Erebor, but at the same time Bilbo really didn’t want to add any more time onto that journey. Which was why he ended up making his escape to the porch, hoping that Fortinbras wouldn’t think to look for him there. A futile hope perhaps, but Bilbo had no desire to climb a tree that morning.  
  
If there’d been any Eagles around he would have, well, not promised them his first born as that would have defeated the purpose… but perhaps-  
  
“Good morning!” Prim chirped as she walked, or rather, waddled-skipped, out of the smial. “What a wonderful morning!” As she passed Bilbo she pressed a kiss to the top of his head.  
  
“Drogo _is_ making good of the Baggins reputation then?” Bilbo teased, spirits lifted a little by the radiant look on Prim's face.  
  
“Quite the opposite I would say as he’s not anywhere near respectable in bed.” Prim giggled and plopped herself down on the bench next to Bilbo. “And I couldn’t be happier about it.”  
  
“Where is Drogo then?” Bilbo asked. “Did you tire him out entirely?”  
  
“He’s not done with his second breakfast yet.” Prim giggled again and hummed happily, but made no further comment on the matter.  
  
“I’m so happy for you both,” Bilbo said and put his arm around her shoulder to give her a gentle squeeze. “And if you come to Erebor I’ll be absolutely over the moon. When I left it seemed as if Thorin was planning on devoting his life to road construction instead of being King, so when you’re ready to go it will probably be as easy as going down to the market. Still,” he added. “Send word and there’ll be people along to escort you.”  
  
“I hope the Elves weren’t too pretty,” Prim said and nudged Bilbo with her elbow. “I don’t wish to have to drag Drogo from Rivendell.”  
  
“As if you’ve ever needed to drag Drogo anywhere,” Bilbo snorted.  
  
“Point,” Prim agreed and sighed happily. She stroked her hands over her stomach. “Do you ever wonder what you could have done to be allowed to be this happy?”  
  
“All the time,” Bilbo smiled, and if his smile was a bit more wistful than Primula’s it was only because his husband and children were quite a bit further away.  
  
-  
  
At after luncheon they were all packed up and ready to go, and there were lots of tears and hugging and Dwarfs looking scared that they would accidentally squish any of the sniffling and clinging Hobbits a little too roughly.

As Bilbo tried to see if anyone of his Dwarfs was looking a little more torn-up about having to leave than the rest of them he could not help but notice that Edda and Breben kept sneaking looks at each other.  
  
Making a mental note to talk to Dwalin about it later Bilbo filed it away and continued to hug his way through the gathered Hobbits.  
  
Finally they were _truly_ ready to go and so they went, Bilbo’s heart a little lighter for it even though they were going back to Hobbiton before going anywhere else.  
  
“Soon,” he whispered, looking up at the blue skies, wondering what the chances were that Thorin was also outside, doing the same.  
  
-

The journey back to Hobbiton was just as uneventful as could have been expected, but they’d not been back at Bag End for very long before there came a very annoyed set of knocks on the front door.  
  
“Lobelia,” Bilbo sighed as he turned away from the book shelf he’d been looking through. “Brilliant.”  
  
“Just tell her to go away,” Dwalin shrugged. “It’s late, just tell her that you were about to go to bed.”  
  
“Trust me, I wished that sort of thing worked around here.”  
  
However it was _not_ Lobelia.  
  
“Miss Barry?” Bilbo said, surprised. “Come in, plea-“  
  
“I’m rather upset with you, Bilbo Baggins,” she said as she stormed inside.  
  
“You weren’t happy with the payment for-“  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
“Addy?”  
  
“No,” Miss Barry said, turning to glare at him. “The Dwarf that he’s not stopped talking about for days now. And he’s only stopped talking about him to question me if I know anything about the Dwarven style of clothing.” She waved her finger at Bilbo. “Mark my words, I’ll never forgive you if I lose the best apprentice I’ve ever had. I knew I had to come as soon as I heard you’d returned.”  
  
It seemed that it was quite lucky that Bilbo had taken the time to question Drogo about his tailor.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said and tilted his chin up. “But I don’t see how this is my fault.”  
  
“Hah!” came Miss Barry’s reply.

“What’ve you done?” Dwalin asked as he walked into the hall.  
  
“See,” Miss Barry said triumphantly. “Even _he_ knows.” She turned to Dwalin. “The clothes fit you perfectly didn’t they? Even though Addy had hardly any time working on them. Don’t tell me that you weren’t one of the best dressed people in Brandy Hall. Addy is very talented. And I’m not letting him run off to have a bunch of babies just because he feels like it.”  
  
Dwalin, rather widely, decided that he didn’t really need to be in the hallway.  
  
Bilbo on the other hand would much have preferred to be protected from irate seamstresses instead of overly friendly Hobbit lasses.  
  
“Addy is a grown Hobbit and perfectly able to make his own choices,” Bilbo said as calmly as he could.  
  
“But the quality of those cho- you!”  
  
Stopping in the doorway Lev made a small sound entirely unbecoming one of the royal guards.  
  
Narrowing her eyes Miss Barry stalked towards him. “Unless you are planning on moving here there will be _no_ seducing of my apprentice, do you hear me?”

It was a little bit like magic, Bilbo mused as Lev’s entire face turned red in the space between two heart beats.

“Um-”

Bilbo turned towards the door which he’d never gotten around to closing.  
  
“Is Liv here?” May asked, nervously tapping her foot against the floor.  
  
“Only if you promise me that your mother and father are not upset with me,” Bilbo muttered.

“Why would they be?” May asked, blinking up at him. With the darkness of the evening behind her she looked especially lovely; her curls shining like spun gold in the light coming from inside Bag End.  
  
“Why indeed…” Bilbo sighed, looking at how Miss Barry was now wagging her fingers at the increasingly desperate looking Lev. “Liv’s out in the garden I believe.” Likely pretending not to look down at the Gamgee’s house but Bilbo didn’t find it necessary to inform her of that. “Please don’t elope with him.”  
  
“Mister _Bilbo_ ,” May protested.  
  
“They do know you’re here I hope?” Bilbo asked. “Your parents I mean. It’s quite late.”  
  
“They know,” May said, and there came the blush.  
  
“Marvellous,” Bilbo nodded at her before going to save Lev.

-

Let’s just say that it was a right wonder that anything any packing at all got done before they all went to bed that night.

-

In the morning Bilbo woke with one big annoying thought at the forefront of his mind, and he sat up in bed and cursed beneath his breath.  
  
“Dammit,” he muttered. “I didn’t even mention anything about trade routes when I was talking to Fortinbras.”  
  
“Whu?” Dwalin snuffled.  
  
“I _refuse_ to go to Tuckborough.”  
  
“Goo,” Dwalin agreed.  
  
“I’ll write him a letter,” Bilbo decided. “It’s what he deserves after asking me to come here just because he’s a suspicious old Took.”  
  
“Hrm,” Dwalin said, which wasn’t particularly helpful. It also wasn’t terribly helpful when he proceeded to reach out for Bilbo and pull him down to rest against his chest, as if Bilbo was an overgrown stuffed toy.  
  
“You don’t even smell like Thorin,” Bilbo said resentfully when Dwalin patted him on the head. “Why am I even sleeping in the same bed as you? The lot of you snore enough that I just needed to leave the door open, Bag End isn’t that big.”  
  
The snore he got in reply wasn’t helpful at _all_.  
  
“I’ll tell Nori that you’re terrible in bed and just leave out the details,” Bilbo muttered. “Wake _up_!”  
  
“Remind me to offer my condolences to Thorin when we get back,” Dwalin groaned.  
  
“For your information Thorin is always pleased to have me in bed,” Bilbo sniffed as he wormed his way out beneath Dwalin’s arm.  
  
“I’d figured as much since you’re the one who keeps popping out the little ones,” Dwalin muttered.  
  
“Not have as in-“ Bilbo cut himself off and narrowed his eyes. “Since Thorin can’t even carry children I don’t see why you’d presume to know anything about what we do in bed.”  
  
“Right, he’s obviously _never_ tupped you.” Dwalin opened one eye to look blearily at him. “Are you going to be like this all the way to Erebor? If so I’ll just tell Thorin I lost you in Rivendell and suffer the consequences. We’re going home, very soon, no need to fret about it." Stretching out in the bed Dwalin heaved a large sigh. "The only good about this is that I don't have to deal with Thorin. If you're like this I expect him to be entirely hopeless."  
  
“I’m not fretting,” Bilbo said sulkily and got up. “You’re fretting.”  
  
“I _was_ sleeping, I’ll think you’ll find,” Dwalin said as he raised himself up into a sitting position. “Why are you sleeping in here anyway?”  
  
“I don’t even know,” Bilbo said and rubbed at his eyes. “I just- I just want to go home. No I want to _be_ home. Right this minute.”  
  
“The sooner you decide what you want to bring and what you want to have shipped, the sooner we can go. Just don’t say that you want the bloody tree or we’ll be here forever while Fraff or Jem tries to figure out how to actually do it.” Dwalin snorted. “If you’re unlucky they’d cut it in smaller pieces and hope to fit it back together in Erebor.”  
  
“Why do you have to be so reasonable,” Bilbo sighed. “Don’t tell me that you don’t miss Nori.”  
  
“I do,” Dwalin said after a few long moments.

As that was the closest yet to any sort of confession Bilbo decided that he’d best leave it for now.  
  
“Breakfast,” he decided instead. “And then we’re going. I picked out the books I want yesterday. I don’t care about the rest of it. We’re going home.”  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peeeeeeeps! I've got tumblr now :D:  
> Still alkjira, so http://alkjira.tumblr.com/  
> If I know you, and you've got a tumblr wanna come and see me screw up as I learn what the hell I'm doing?  
> Or just creep on me anonymously, it's cool, just don't be weird about it. ;)


	15. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was supposed to be 5 chapters, but now it's finally done! 
> 
> There will be more in the series, I just- need a breather. Wow.

Deciding that they were leaving after breakfast was all good and well, but what Bilbo had forgotten was the presence of two somewhat hopeless brothers (and wasn’t it interesting that he for once wasn’t referring to Fíli and Kíli when he said that?).

Upon being told that they were leaving Lev and Liv acquired the saddest expressions known to Hobbit, Dwarf, Elf or Man and 'after breakfast' was postponed to 'after lunch' to give them more time to say good-bye to Addy and May. The rest of the Dwarfs were informed that they were of course also free to go and do as they pleased, and that lunch would be served at noon and not a moment later.

Before they went their separate ways however Dwalin had something to say to them all.  
  
“There’ll just be _one_ Hobbit with us when we go back,” Dwalin said sternly. “And if you’d like to stay here you’re going to wait to ask that until we’re _back_ in Erebor.”  
  
“A little harsh?” Bilbo murmured after Lev and Liv in particular had slunk off with distinctly cowed expressions.  
  
Dwalin gave him an unamused look.

“ _No_. If we’re going to have people settling down here, or if we’re going to have Hobbits coming to Erebor it needs to be done in an _orderly_ fashion. Won’t have someone else’s relatives writing to blame us for _kidnapping_ -“  
  
“I feel I should not have told you this,” Bilbo sighed.  
  
“And if someone has signed up to be a guard that’s what they’ll do. No part of being a guard says that you’ll flounce off on whim.”  
  
There was reason in that, so Bilbo simply patted the still muttering Dwarf on the arm. “I’ll be going to have a word with the older of the Gamgees. Want to come along in case there are biscuits?”  
  
A grunt was not really a good reply but Bilbo would take it anyway.

-  
  
“If you’re looking for that boy of yours May’s dragged him down to the strawberry field.”  
  
Briar had been weeding when Bilbo and Dwalin came along, and she straightened up and wiped her hands on her apron.  
  
“ _Oh_?” Bilbo said cautiously, remembering the very nice and secluded patch of soft grass not that far from the strawberry field. The one where no one would see you if you ended up on your back on said grass.

“Not to worry,” Briar said, a knowing look in her eyes.  “It’s just for the strawberries. Valar knows I’ve heard enough from my girl lately about not wanting to scare your boy away.”

Dwalin made a strangled sound and Bilbo barely managed to stop a chuckle.  
  
“She’s a good girl,” Briar added, looking at Dwalin. “She’d not go ahead and push for something that your lad isn’t ready for.”  
  
“He’s not my _lad_ ,” Dwalin gritted out. “He’s a soldier under my _command_.”  
  
“Technically they have the morning off,” Bilbo said, blinking innocently up at Dwalin when a sour look was turned his way. “Liv wasn’t the reason why we came though, Mrs-“  
  
“ _Briar_.”  
  
“Briar,” Bilbo said smiling broadly. “I came to beg for a favour.”  
  
“Royalty should not beg,” Dwalin murmured, but it was half-hearted at best.  
  
“I thought we’d stopped talking about what Thorin and I do in bed,” Bilbo said, pretending not to see the pained look he received in reply to that. “Briar, I don’t mean to inconvenience you and Hobson, but since we all will be leaving today I was wondering if I could ask you to keep an eye on Bag End for me?”  
  
“I thought you’d already had a talk with Hamfast about this?” Briar crossed her arms over her ample chest. “He’ll do a good job, Bilbo, there’s no need to-“  
  
“Ah, yes, but there has perhaps been a change of plans. Not with Hamfast,” Bilbo hurried to tack on. “You see, I was hoping that Primula and Drogo would want to move to Bag End, lots of space to fill up with little ones-“

“How lovely!” Briar exclaimed. “Yes that would be a perfect fit for them.”  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo smiled. “But as my cousins informed me they’ve been harbouring plans to come and live with me in Erebor. Not right away, but after their wee one has decided to make an entrance and grown up a bit.”  
  
“More than a bit I would hope,” Briar said. “But if they’re not coming with you now.. they'll still move here then?”  
  
“Well-“ Bilbo rocked back on his heels. “I hope they’ll still accept my offer to come and stay in Bag End until the time comes for them to go East, but when they leave, or if they decide they’re happier staying in Buckland for the time being, I was hoping that you and Hobson might find some use for Bag End?”  
  
“ _Hobson_!”  
  
Bilbo winced. “Ah, that was not the word I was hoping to hear. I was thinking something shorter. Starts with a ‘Y’ and rhymes with mess?”  
  
“What is going on?” Hobson asked as he walked out of the smial, feather duster in hand.

Briar pointed to Bilbo who tried his best to look like a respectable father of four who just wanted to make sure his family home was well taken care of. Oh, and there was quite a difference between his family home and his family’s home wasn’t there…  
  
“I was asking for a rather large favour,” Bilbo said apologetically.  
  
“He’s wanting to basically give us Bag End,” Briar said, somewhat flatly.  
  
“Think of it as a really long-term lending if it feels better?”  
  
Hobson aimed the feather duster at Bilbo. “This will require tea. Come in and I’ll put the kettle on.”  
  
-  
  
“But you _are_ planning on coming back here with your family?” Briar asked, taking a sip of her tea before putting down the cup and nudging the plate of biscuits in Dwalin’s direction.  
  
“Yes,” Bilbo nodded. “I am, but it might be years and years, _decades_ if I listen to Thorin, and we won’t ever be coming to stay.” He sighed. “And I really don’t want for Bag End to become an empty place, collecting dust and old memories. It should be a _home_. Even if Prim and Drogo doesn’t come or if they just stay for a little while Bag End deserves to be a home.”  
  
Lifting his hands to run his fingers over the forget-me-not-pin Bilbo ducked his head, and unbidden his lips quirked up in a smile. “But I’ve got a new home now.”

“I’m not sure you’ve noticed,” Hobson said drily. “But we also have a home.”  
  
“And you’ve got several children-“ Bilbo raised his hand when Hobson was about to reply. “And your children are all a lot older than mine. May might very well want to start a family of her own soon-“  
  
Dwalin let out a pained sigh and took another biscuit.  
  
“-and Hamfast is not that much younger than her. Bag End would be more than happy to have either of them. Or both even. There certainly are rooms enough for two smaller families. And the hill stretches far enough that there can be several more rooms added and-“  
  
“Bilbo-“  
  
“I had considered Lobelia, but honestly, I’m quite sure that she doesn’t even know why she wants Bag End. She just wants it to _have_ it for the sake of having it and that’s not-“  
  
“ _Bilbo_.”  
  
Bilbo blinked at Briar.  
  
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” she asked. “We’re not family.”  
  
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Bilbo said and winked. “Apparently your girl wants to start something with our lad.”  
  
Dwalin dragged the plate of biscuits over to his side of the table.  
  
“And I’ve known the both of you all my life,” Bilbo continued in a more sober tone, remembering how the Gamgees had cared for him after his parents had died. “You’ve been so kind and supportive and I would be _proud_ to get to call you family.”  
  
Teacups trembled and Dwalin hurried to move the plate of biscuits down into his lap as Briar sniffed wetly and threw herself across the table to drag Bilbo into her arms.  
  
-  
  
Happy that the odds had increased exponentially that Bag End would be filled with people, and happy that his happiness had managed to calm his travelling nerves a little, Bilbo continued his morning by dragging Dwalin with him to the market, wanting to make their last meal in Bag End memorable.  
  
“Are you doing pies?” Dwalin asked hopefully when an entire sack of apples was purchased.  
  
“For lunch? No, this is for the ponies.” They also deserved a treat. Bilbo wasn’t sure if they’d been horribly bored by this trip or if they enjoyed it, but apples were always a winner when it came to pony-preferences.  
  
“Nothing wrong with pie for lunch.”  
  
“I’m not going to make any pies. How can you even want pie? You had more than ten biscuits.”  
  
“ _Eleven_ ,” Dwalin said contently. ”Good biscuits. Always room for pie though.”

“There’s no dessert after lunch,” Bilbo tutted. “How would you have space for afternoon tea if that was the case.”  
  
“I had biscuits now, still space for lunch.”  
  
“I’m _not_ going to make any pie.”  
  
Dwalin was silent for a while. "We'll be on the road again so there won't be any afternoon tea."  
  
"No pies."  
  
-  
  
Despite the lack of pie Dwalin couldn’t really keep sulking when he saw the spread Bilbo set about preparing as they got back to Bag End.  
  
Smoked salmon, fried chicken, ham and roast beef, and add to that several loafs of freshly baked bread as well as crisp lettuce, juicy tomatoes and vibrant bell peppers tumbled together in a fresh salad and it was hard for anyone to be glum.  
  
It was fortunate that Bilbo had plenty of food because both May and Addy ended up joining them for the meal.  
  
-  
  
“It would be easier for the two of you to eat if you let go of each other’s hands,” Bilbo sighed, not bothering to repeat himself when it seemed that Lev and Addy hadn’t even heard him.  
  
“Your fault,” Dwalin muttered as he kept piling salmon on his sandwich.  
  
“If you had brought a change of clothes…” Bilbo shook his head. “And it’s not a mistake, so it’s not anyone’s fault.”  
  
May’s and Liv’s hands were busy stuffing food into their mouths, but they were sitting close enough that their shoulders kept brushing together, and while Lev and Addy were too preoccupied with smiling at each other to talk, Liv and May kept up a low conversation that Bilbo tried not to pay any attention to as it was none of his business.  
  
It was a peaceful lunch, but Bilbo looked around the crowded table and was reminded of a less peaceful dinner and the homesickness from that morning washed over him again like a wave.  
  
_Soon_ , he told himself. Soon he’d be one his way home again.  
-

  
“I said, n _o Hobbits_ ,” Dwalin said, glaring at Lev before jutting his thumb in Bilbo’s direction. “Just that one.”  
  
“I do so appreciate it when you talk about me like that,” Bilbo murmured as he, without help and quite adeptly if he could say so himself, got up on his pony.  
  
“Addy is just coming with us ‘til the road turns,” Lev defended, still holding Addy’s hand, the both of them standing by Lev’s pony. “He’s going that way anyway. It won’t take any extra time.”  
  
“It’s all right,” Bilbo said to Dwalin. “We’ll see if he tries to smuggle anyone into his saddlebags.”  
  
“I _wouldn’t_ ,” Lev protested, as if that was actually a possibility.

Liv just made a tiny sigh, as if to say that he’d considered it but thought better of it.  
  
“Surrounded by children,” Dwalin muttered and another pang of homesickness needled at Bilbo’s heart.

“Just, everyone up on a pony,” Bilbo said, swallowing back something less pleasant. “We’re going to leave now so we’ll actually get somewhere before sunset.”  
  
He pretended not to see the look Dwalin gave him, and as much as he didn’t like giving orders (regardless what Thorin would claim to the contrary) Bilbo was relieved when everyone did as he asked and saddled up.  
  
“Bye then,” Bilbo whispered to Bag End as he nudged his pony into a slow trot, knowing that while it wasn’t the last time he’d see his childhood home it wouldn’t be the same next time.  
  
It was already not the same, because if it had been there wouldn’t have been a greedy itch clawing beneath his skin, yelling at him to hurry up and go _home_ already. The last time he'd left there'd been an adventure calling him.  
  
The contrast couldn't be more distinct and Bilbo wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
-  
  
Rivendell was their first real stop; they’d stay there for a couple of nights as there were supplies to replenish and diplomatic relations to uphold, and besides all that Bilbo wanted to give Trinn an opportunity to make Lord Elrond’s steward blush again.  
  
However…

“I’m sorry Lindir wasn’t here,” Bilbo said quietly to Trinn as they were walking towards the chambers they’d been given. “You liked him didn’t you?”  
  
Trinn chuckled slightly. “I know it doesn’t look that way, but it is possible to enjoy looking at someone without wanting to marry them. It’s all right. I’m not about to turn into Lev or Liv.”  
  
The two brothers were less droopy now than they’d been just after leaving the Shire, but they still had a way to go before they hit perky. Unlike Edda and Breben who had proceeded from sneaking looks at each other to sneaking off together, not far mind, but they clearly were looking for some privacy . And the soft looks in their eyes made Bilbo both happy and sad, but most of all _antsy_.  
  
Which was why the offer he received the next morning was an outright blessing.  
  
-  
  
“I would like to offer you our assistance,” Lord Elrond said during breakfast, raising his hand to make a very regal-looking gesture (and Bilbo would _never_ tell Thorin that something Lord Elrond did had reminded him of Thorin because he’d never hear the end of it) and after mere moments a dozen Elves walked into the hall. “You would travel faster on horseback.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened as he understood what Lord Elrond was offering. “Oh, yes please.” If they doubled up with Elves already from Rivendell and not Mirkwood it would be a much faster journey home.

Dwalin opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. They’d all done it before, and well… Dwalin was as eager to go home as the rest of them.

Jem, Nim and Fraff actually ended up being huffier than Dwalin, but if Dwalin wouldn’t speak against it neither would they. At least not terribly loudly.

From their mutters Bilbo could very well work out that they weren’t at _all_ happy about continuing the journey on giant beasts, not to mention needing to cling to _Elves, again,_ and sharing a camp with them _again_. Hearing them go on you’d think that the last time it happened was a mere week ago instead of several months back.  
  
Still, they were free to stick with their ponies if they wanted to but Bilbo was not going to wait for them, nor was he about to look a gift horse in the mouth, or the Elf riding it, as it were.

-

After a safe passage over the Misty Mountains and only one small, barely noticeable really, Orc attack (that Bilbo also wasn’t in any hurry to tell Thorin about) they arrived in Mirkwood.

Bilbo was fairly sure that he’d been rather rude to Thranduil, not staying longer than it took to say “Hello, King Thranduil, good-bye.” but he was fairly sure that the look on Thranduil’s face had been more amused than annoyed.

One possible reason for the amusement revealed itself when they cleared the forest and rode past a Dwarf who was all but asleep on her pony.  
  
When she realised who they were she came speeding after them and Dwalin recognized her as Thina, one of the royal guards.  
  
“Your Highness!” she called, and Bilbo, who had already asked the Elf he rode with to slow down, turned to look at her. “Welcome back!” The beaming smile Bilbo received was bright as the sun. “I will now return to prepare the King and the of Erebor for your return! This has been my mission!”  
  
Bilbo tried to figure out if Thorin had _seriously_ asked someone to remain here ever since he left; and if that was the case he truly hoped that they’d had plenty of shifts so it wasn’t just one or two unfortunate souls who had been here all this time, but he’d not quite finished his thought when Dwalin spoke up.  
  
“Our horses are faster than your pony,” Dwalin pointed out, a little wryly.

Thina’s expression fell so quickly it was almost comical. “There weren’t supposed to be any Elves,” she said, glancing at said Elves.  
  
“Our sincere apologies,” Bilbo’s Elf said with a remarkably straight face.  
  
“You can join us,” Jem’s Elf said and nodded. “My horse can carry two of you, and together we’ll make haste to tell the King under the Mountain that his love has at last returned.

Jem actually gave the Elf a moderately friendly look after that statement. Figured, what with his fondness of epic tales of love through adversity and all.  
  
Thina had brightened again, but-

“I can’t leave my pony,” she said, reaching down to pat her animal on the neck.  
  
“We could…. stay,” Edda suggested after exchanging a look with Breben. “Breben and I. Safety in numbers. Riding slow enough that the pony can keep up.”  
  
Bilbo tugged on the cloak of his Elf, who was called Erthor. The Elf that was, not the cloak.  
  
“While they sort themselves out could we perhaps continue to Erebor?” he asked after getting Erthor’s attention.

“As you please, Your Highness” the Elf said, smiling down at him.

-  
  
Eventually they did get to Erebor, all of them. But Bilbo did not actually need to go all the way to Erebor before he was able to lay eyes on a very familiar figure coming towards them full speed on a pony.  
  
“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered and almost fell off his horse, and wouldn’t that have been a horribly embarrassing end for his journey. Not that he had time for such thoughts in that moment.  
  
“I’ve missed you so much,” Bilbo whispered as Thorin pulled him close and hugged him fiercely enough that Bilbo’s toes left the ground. Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck and twisted his fingers into dark locks and just breathed for a moment; taking in Thorin’s familiar smell and sturdy warmth. “The children?”  
  
“Are just fine,” Thorin promised, his voice like rough silk over thunder and oh dear now Bilbo was beginning to think as if he really was in one of Jem’s stories and he couldn’t even be bothered to mind because how could he mind _anything_ now that he was finally back in Thorin's arms.

When Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s forehead he tilted his face up for a real kiss and he was not disappointed.

Dimly, he could hear Dwalin snorting in the background and telling someone just not to watch if they were going to turn that colour, but none of that mattered because Bilbo was finally _back_.  
  
Back, yes... but not quite home, not just yet.  
  
“I _really_ want to go home now,” Bilbo said, trying to press himself even closer to Thorin even though he knew they couldn’t stay like this if they were to continue the last miles to Erebor. “I’ve missed you all so much and I’m never doing this without all of you ever again. I don’t care who’s getting married and bugger my spoons.”

“I’d rather not,” Thorin said, tightening his grip on Bilbo. “If it’s all the same to you.”  
  
The chuckle that escaped Bilbo’s mouth was part sob and he hid his face against Thorin’s neck, rubbing his cheek against Thorin’s beard.  
  
“Home,” Bilbo whispered. “To our children.”  
  
“Home,” Thorin agreed, cupping the back of Bilbo’s neck with his warm big hand that felt exactly right and the next sob wasn’t even pretending to be a chuckle.

-  
  
Bilbo had secretly been concerned that his babies would have forgotten all about him, but he shouldn’t had worried.  
  
“Daddy!” Della squealed when she saw him, trotting towards him across the floor and Bilbo fell to his knees and pulled her in close, breathing in the soft clean smell of his oldest girl.  
  
“You’ve grown!” he said, having to clear his throat. “Della, oh my sweet, let me look at you. Have you been good for your Adad?”  
  
“Nuh-uh,” Della beamed and Bilbo hiccupped and lowered his head to hide his face in her soft curls, peppering them with kisses.  
  
The triplets were napping and although he itched to wake them up Bilbo told himself that he could wait another hour. Just being able to look at them again was wonderful.  
  
They had gotten so big down that there was no way for him to hold them all at once, but settling down on the bed beside them Bilbo did his best, even though they clearly didn’t need to be held anymore as they slept. Not even Burin.  
  
Then again, Bilbo didn’t really need to be held either, strictly speaking, but when Thorin curled up behind him (with Della demanding to lie between them) Bilbo was not about to protest.

“Home,” he whispered. “I’m home.”  
  
A small meow answered him and then the bed got considerably more crowded as Bill, Thorn and all of their children joined them as well.  
  
“I love you,” Thorin said, voice a soft rumble and Della, never one to be outdone, squirmed up so she could give Bilbo’s cheek a big smacking kiss.   
  
Then she almost fell down on top of Fennin as she got distracted by one or more of the hamsters and decided that she wanted to play, but Thorin managed to snag her in time to avoid injury and ever patient Bill went to keep her company (Della’s fascination with his tail had not yet passed it would seem.)

Not before Fennin had woken up though, staring up at Bilbo with big blue eyes, blinking several times in confusion before she gave him a big happy smile that had considerably more teeth than when he'd left.  
  
“ _Home_ ,” Bilbo said again and laughed as he reached for her. "Hello, my darling. Hi."  
  
-

The next morning Bilbo found the Arkenstone in his favourite teacup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I’m pretty sure the Arkenstone hasn’t been there all this time. If so they should have found it already. Probably.) 
> 
> ((and I've of course not forgotten about let's say Nori or Dwalin, nor about the rest of them, but they''ll get space in another story, promise))

**Author's Note:**

> Authors love comments as much as you love fics.


End file.
